Safe and Sound
by Treppenwitz
Summary: Trixie is certain that Patsy is not being entirely honest with her, but she also understands that it is secrets keeping both Patsy and Delia safe. The question is, where do they go from here?
1. Chapter 1

_"_ _Where were you?"_

 _"_ _In Delia's room. She was just teaching me a new card game,"_

Trixie stubbed out her Sobranie cigarette, perhaps a little more forcefully than she had intended. The little embers sparked briefly before fading to black amongst the ashes. A thin coil of smoke curled up towards the ceiling. Turning her head away, she stared at a point on the wall opposite and considered her next move.

She knew that Patsy was lying to her.

If tonight had been an isolated incident, Trixie would never have given Patsy's unusually dishevelled hair or rosy cheeks a second thought. She would not have looked twice at the creases in her nightshirt, nor even taken notice of the deep drags she was taking from the cigarette, which she was holding tightly between her index and middle finger. Alone, these were quite inconsequential details, and not worthy of any attention whatsoever, but tonight was not an isolated incident, and Trixie was very aware of that fact.

Her realisation that there was more going on beneath the surface than was being spoken of had been a gradual process. She could not say which individual event had confirmed her suspicions, but it was of little importance anyway. What mattered was that, as they sat there in silence in their shared bedroom, Trixie was certain that the conclusion that she had come to was correct. As a nurse, her trained eye was well-practised in observing symptoms, and she had now made her diagnosis.

She was ashamed to admit to herself that the reason she had initially taken an interest in Patsy and Delia's relationship was out of jealousy. Seeing how at ease they were in each other's company, and watching them come home together after various night-time excursions had made her wonder why it was that she and Patsy were not that close. There had even been occasions where she had jokingly commented on how Patsy would clearly prefer to be spending time with Delia and not her. They had both laughed at the time, but it had stung.

That jealously was gone now, but it had been replaced by a slight sadness. Did Patsy not feel able to confide in her? Trixie had, of course, made it clear on numerous occasions that she did not hold the same views as the law, but that did not seem to be enough to give Patsy confidence in her.

Should she say something?

Trixie's lips parted as she tried to find the right words to raise the subject, but before she could, the sharp ring of the telephone broke the quiet. It rang twice before she swung her legs over the bed and sat up.

"Well, that's my call to arms," she said brightly.

Patsy gave a small smile, and exhaled smoke through her nose. Trixie could not help but feel a small twinge of guilt. Clearly her earlier questioning regarding Patsy's whereabouts had upset her.

"I'll see you later then,"

Patsy nodded, "Yes. Good luck,"

The door swung shut, and Trixie hurried down the corridor. Immediately her mind switched from her concerns about Patsy to her concerns about whichever patient was calling. The other matter could be contemplated again at another more suitable time. For now, she had a job to do.


	2. Chapter 2

The atmosphere at Nonnatus House was pleasant and relaxed. Supper was drawing to a close, and the kitchen was filled with the sounds of light-hearted chatter. It was only Trixie who was quiet, seemingly lost in thought with her brow furrowed, and Sister Julienne had recognised this.

"Is everything quite alright, Nurse Franklin?"

Trixie started out of her daydream, wrenching her eyes away from the scene in front of her, and dropping her fork down onto her plate with a clatter.

"Yes… sorry! It's been a long day,"

Taking the explanation with a nod, Sister Julienne turned to resume her discussion with Barbara. With the focus on her lifted, Trixie found herself staring back at Patsy and Delia again.

They were sat opposite her, and were deep in conversation. Delia was leant in to Patsy, with her head inclined to look up at her. There was something in her eyes; a type of adoration that Trixie was used to seeing between a mother and her new-born. Her whole face was alight with a brilliant happiness, and the same expression was mirrored by Patsy. With everybody else so taken up in their own lively exchanges, nobody had stopped to see just how deliriously enamoured the two nurses were with each other.

Everybody, that was, except Trixie.

When dinner ended, the nurses and midwives stood to clear their plates, and Patsy offered to do the washing up. One by one, the women left the room, many talking on animatedly, still wrapped up in the events of the day. Soon, it was just Trixie left. She was leant against the table, and her fingers were anxiously tapping out a rhythm on the wooden surface. The muscles in her jaw were visibly clenching as she deliberated on what she should say; how she should say it… and whether she should say it at all.

"Patsy,"

The redhead whipped around, and look surprised to see Trixie stood alone. She curiously studied her, trying to decipher the unusually sombre look on the blonde nurse's features.

"Trixie?"

"I was just wondering if I could talk to you about something,"

"Oh, right, yes… of course," Patsy said, turning back to sink her arms down into the soapy waters, "What did you want to know?"

There was a pregnant pause, and the air began to fill with a nervous tension as Trixie shuffled uncomfortably back and forth.

"You're making me worried now, Trix," Patsy said, trying to inject an untroubled tone into her voice.

There was no response, and Patsy looked around again. She had paled, and Trixie could see her chest rapidly rising and falling as her breaths came short and fast. Droplets of water from the sink dripped down onto the tiled floor, and their little splashes seemed to be deafening in the silence.

"What's going on, Trixie?"

More silence. And then:

 _"_ _How long have you been in love with Delia for?"_


	3. Chapter 3

_"_ _How long have you been in love with Delia for?"_

The mug in Patsy's hand fell to the floor and smashed, scattering soap suds and china fragments across the tiles. Trixie jumped, her arm flying out to hold take hold of the table edge to steady herself. Patsy stood motionless, staring down at the sharp little shards now littered around her feet.

"What?"

She uttered the question as if she could hardly believe that she had just heard what she did. To her horror, Trixie could see Patsy shaking slightly, and her bottom lip was trembling. Already, she began to wish that she had said nothing at all, but it was too late now.

"What?"

This time it was more of a demand.

"Patsy, I…"

"You do know that what you are accusing me of is illegal?"

Trixie had to drop her gaze, unable to bear the sheer betrayal in her friend's eyes.

"Yes, I…"

"Then why? I could lose _everything,_ Trixie,"

Instantly, Trixie's feeling of guilt was replaced by disbelief and indignation. Did Patsy really believe that she wanted to ruin her? After everything that they had shared, did Patsy really have such little faith in her? It took her a moment to collect her own thoughts, and control the new fire rising in her stomach.

"Just because it's illegal does not mean that I am accusing you of anything. Do you not know me at all?"

Patsy straightened up, squaring her shoulders and gritting her teeth.

"No, I don't think that I do anymore. I don't think that I want to know anybody who chooses to corner me when I'm alone to interrogate me. I want you to leave, Trixie,"

The ordinarily unperturbable Patience Mount had been rattled, and Trixie could see it in the scarlet flush in her cheeks. This was not the same blush that she had seen Delia so easily call up. It was darker, and fuelled not by love, but by anger. Her voice had lost its gentleness and sound of control. Now, it was cold and empty.

"So you deny it then?"

The part of Trixie not yet corrupted by her own feelings of rage was screaming at her to stop and apologise, but she was too far gone. She hated herself for her own ridiculous defiance, and she hated herself even more for the small rush of pleasure that she got when she saw that her question had rendered Patsy speechless. It was wrong, and she knew it, but she was not going to go down without a fight.

"Do you deny it?" she repeated, slowly annunciating each word, and watching Patsy flinch, as if in real pain.

"I…"

"So that's a no then,"

Patsy's shoulders slumped in defeat and she weakly should her head. The strength in her to oppose the allegations was gone, and she staggered backwards to support herself against the work surface.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Trixie asked, her voice immediately taking on a softer sound, "Patsy, you know that I would never turn you in or report you. I just wanted to know! I thought that we were honest with each other,"

Patsy barely suppressed a sneer, "Do you know how childish that sounds? What we are talking about here isn't some sort of playground folly. It's my livelihood and my reputation… and it's Delia's as well. I spend everyday living in absolute terror that we'll make a wrong move and I'll lose her and everything forever. Do you really think that I can afford to tell anybody else? Can you not see how dangerous that is for us?"

With that, Trixie's anger melted away, and the fierce guilt returned. For all of this time, she had never once considered how difficult a time Patsy may have been having, and she felt ashamed. She had been so focused on the injustice of being left out of the loop, that she had forgotten to stop and think about what Patsy and Delia were really up against.

"But, Delia's accident… and your flat,"

Patsy shrugged, "What of it?"

"Were you… you know?"

"Yes," Patsy confirmed bitterly.

"But that must have been hell for you!" Trixie exclaimed dismay, "And nobody knew… and she was so ill!"

Patsy glanced up at her, and felt her resentment towards Trixie fade a little; she looked genuinely distressed.

"It wasn't easy. I didn't think that I…" her voice cracked as the grief that she had buried resurfaced, "I didn't think that I would ever see her again,"

"But then she came back,"

"Yes. She did come back,"

Hearing the agony in Patsy's voice made Trixie's eyes burn with tears that were threatening to spill over. Careful not to smudge her makeup, she wiped them dry.

"If I had had any idea, Patsy, I would have…"

"You didn't Trixie, and it's fine. She's here now, and she's safe,"

"No, it's not fine," Trixie said sounding mortified, "I am so sorry! For all of this time, you were forced to live in secret! You almost lost her, and nobody would have known!"

Patsy stretched out her arm and pulled Trixie into a hug to console her.

"That's all in the past now, Trixie. That's all gone now,"

Trixie gave a small laugh, "Oh, how mad is this. You're the one comforting me!"

Patsy rubbed her shoulder, and smiled at her friend.

"For the record, Trixie, I am sorry that I never said anything to you. I do trust you; there just aren't many people that I can. But you do understand my reasons for keeping quiet?"

"Of course! You've got nothing to apologise for. I should never have tried to confront you like this, you don't deserve this on top of everything else,"

"Yes, well, it doesn't matter now. Let's just get this mess cleared up and leave it at that,"


	4. Chapter 4

"Patsy, do you have a minute?"

Patsy glanced up from her clipboard to see Trixie's head poked around the curtain partition.

"I'm expecting to see another patient any minute now, Trixie, can it wait?"

The blonde nurse nodded, "Yes, of course, not a problem,".

When she was gone, Patsy could not help but breathe a little sigh of relief. Ever since their conversation in the kitchen several days ago, she had found that Delia was all that Trixie ever wanted to speak of to her. While she understood that her friend was just taking an interest, she was becoming increasingly tired of fielding questions, and was now actively avoiding spending long periods of time alone with Trixie, in a desperate attempt to evade further queries. She had always been a very private person, and disliked sharing personal information, even with those closest to her. It was only Delia who could really bring her out of her shell.

"Nurse Mount?"

Thinking for a moment that it was Trixie, Patsy raised her head sharply, ready to lose her temper. She was embarrassed to see Shelagh Turner stood patiently where Trixie had been a moment ago.

"Sorry, Mrs Turner, I didn't… I thought that you were somebody else,"

Shelagh gave her a cheerful smile, brushing off the incident.

"Oh, don't worry about that, I do it all the time! I just came to let you know that Mrs Gates is here for her appointment,"

"Right, of course, send her in,"

Smoothing down the front of her uniform, and taking a couple of deep breaths to set her head straight, Patsy turned to welcome in a heavily pregnant woman. Helping her onto the bed, Patsy eased into her professional role, instantly taking on her signature air of efficiency and order as she conducted the examination. She went through all of the routine checks, but found it increasingly difficult to remain entirely concentrated, with thoughts of Delia and Trixie flashing into her head as she worked.

"I trust that you have been taking plenty of rest, Mrs Gates?" she asked, trying to shake off all of the distractions, "It really is very important,"

"I do know that, nurse, but the business is as busy as ever and I'm not one for sitting around,"

"I understand, I'm the same. But, believe me, taking a few days to put your feet up and relax will do you the world of good,"

"But what about you, nurse?"

Patsy had just leant over to update the medical notes, and she looked back, surprised at the unusual question.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you look a bit worn out, if you don't mind my saying. Is everything alright with you?"

One of the many characteristics of the residents of London's East End that Patsy had always found endearing was their sense of compassion. Unlike in the sterile and impersonal environment of the boarding schools that she had spent much of her life in, where people only inquired into your health because social protocol dictated that they must, the EastEnders asked because they were genuinely interested.

"I'm quite well, thank you,"

"A lot on you mind, is it?"

Her intuition was startling, and her face was sympathetic.

"Yes, I suppose that there is,"

"Now, you see here, nurse, I think that you and I are the same. My husband, he's always telling me to slow down and take it easy, but I can't. Working hard; it gives you something to focus on, and takes your mind off the other things, but it's not always good for you. Maybe it's about time that we both started to try and take his advice, eh?"

Patsy nodded, feeling her anxieties being soothed by her kind voice.

"I think that your husband is a very wise man,"

"Oh, he is, God love him, but don't tell him that I said so. He wouldn't get his head out of the front door in the mornings,"

She heaved herself up into a sitting position, politely declining the offer of assistance. Her strength and determination were a source of great admiration for Patsy.

"I'll bring round your delivery pack in the morning,"

"That's very good of you, nurse. Take care now,"

Mrs Gates left the clinic, carrying her stomach proudly before her and exchanging pleasantries with other patients as she went. Patsy watched her go, mulling over her poignant advice. Once again, she became so lost in thought that she failed to see Shelagh reappear at the curtain partition.

"Nurse Mount, are you sure that there is nothing the matter? You seem very distracted, and look a little pale,"

"I… haven't been sleeping well,"

Strictly this was not a lie. Recently she had been sleeping badly, but it was not the cause of this particular moment of disarray.

"Do you think that you would benefit from taking the rest of the day off?"

"I couldn't put you to that bother,"

Shelagh placed her hand on Patsy's shoulder supportively.

"It's no bother. Go back to Nonnatus, take some aspirin and have a nap. We'll manage here perfectly well,"

There was no use in arguing, and Patsy handed over her clipboard.

"I'll explain the situation to Sister Julienne," Shelagh reassured her, "She'll understand,"

Feeling a little dejected, Patsy made her way through the queue of mothers-to-be and sidestepped a few misbehaving toddlers to reach the door. She had to admit that the cool breeze that she felt on her face as she stepped outside was refreshing, and suddenly the prospect of some time to herself seemed a little more inviting. She really did feel spent.

Saddling her bike, she leisurely pedalled through the terraced streets back to Nonnatus House. It was nice and quiet inside, and she was greeted by Sister Mary Cynthia, who was sat patiently beside the telephone.

"I'm just feeling very tired, that's all," Patsy explained when Cynthia asked why she was back so early, "It's nothing an afternoon of rest can't fix,"

"Well, if you need anything at all, give us a call,"

Patsy looked confused.

"Us?"

"Delia's upstairs. I believe that she is on a night shift tonight, so she only worked for half of the morning,"

Delia. There was a familiar swoop in Patsy's stomach, followed by an abrupt feeling of unease. Even though it had been three days since Trixie had been told the truth about their relationship, Patsy had not yet informed Delia that their secret was out. Delia, although it had slipped Patsy's mind until now, had, of course, been working night shifts all week, and so they had seen very little of each other. Usually this would have been very difficult for them both, but it had almost been a relief for Patsy, because she had not had to break the dreaded news.

"You really do look very white, Patsy, do you want me to call somebody?"

"No! No… I'm going upstairs now, I'll go to bed, it's fine,"

Her mind seemed to be filled with a fog as she took the stairs, and she had trouble coordinating her legs to lift her up each step. All that she really wanted was to go into her room, draw the curtains, crawl between the cool sheets and awake to find that nothing had changed at all. The panic that others could uncover her relationship as Trixie had done mingled with the guilt that she felt at not being immediately honest with her beloved Delia, and these two emotions made her feel physically ill.

Resisting the temptation to enter her own room, Patsy knocked softly on Delia's door.

"Deels? It's Patsy... Can I come in?"


	5. Chapter 5

Delia was reclined on her bed, with a book in her hand. Her quilt was kicked down into a heap at the bottom edge of her mattress, and her uniform was hanging over the back of the chair in the corner. Up on her windowsill was a white vase, filled with some exquisite-looking daffodils. Sunlight seeped through the net curtains, causing their petals to glow a vibrant yellow. Knowing that it was Delia who had chosen and arranged them, so that their beautiful colours would lighten her little room, made Patsy feel indescribably happy inside, and she gazed fondly at them.

Hearing Patsy edge into the room, Delia rolled over onto her side, discarding her book onto the bed beside her, and propping herself up on her elbow. She regarded Patsy a little sternly, but her blue eyes twinkled, telling Patsy that she had nothing real to fear.

"I feel as if we need to be reintroduced to one another, seeing as it has been so long since we last met,"

"I'm sorry Deels, I really am,"

Delia clicked her tongue as she arched her eyebrow.

"Your puppy dog face might work wonders on others, Patience Mount, but it certainly won't work on me,"

"Is that so?" Patsy teased, "We'll just have to see about that,"

Removing her cap from her hair and dropping it down onto the bedside table, Patsy knelt one knee onto the mattress, and leant over Delia, their noses almost touching. She smelt divine, her fragrant perfume making Patsy's head spin and chasing any other thoughts or worries out of her mind for a second or two. Bringing her other leg over, Patsy put her hands on either side of Delia's head so that she was directly above her.

In a half-hearted attempt to remind Patsy that she wasn't quite forgiven yet, Delia looked pointedly away at the wall, but Patsy put two fingers beneath her chin, gently raising her eyes back to meet her own.

"Look at me," she said, stroking Delia's cheek softly with her thumb, "I'm sorry for not being around,"

Delia leant into the warmth of Patsy's hand, her face the picture of bliss and contentment. One of her arms reached up to wrap around Patsy's waist, pulling her in closer, and her other hand slipped into the crook of her neck.

"It's not really your fault, Pats," she whispered, shaking her head sadly, "Our hours are so difficult, there's nothing to be done… but I just want to spend every moment away from the hospital with you,"

"I want that too," Patsy assured her, "I love you,"

Their lips brushed lightly against each other, and Patsy savoured the precious moments just before the real kiss. Delia's grip on her waist tightened slightly as they grew closer, and her heart rate accelerated wildly as their lips finally met in a perfect union. Feeling the way Delia reacted to her ignited a fire within Patsy. She eased Delia's hand from her neck, and interlocked their fingers, squeezing them tightly and noting the way her pulse raced beneath her skin.

Moving away from Delia's lips, she left a searing trail of kisses along her jawline and down her throat, nipping delicately at the soft skin there. Her teeth grazed Delia's collarbone, and she felt the brunette shudder beneath her. When she reluctantly pulled away, she saw that Delia's breath was coming in short, shaky gasps, and she swallowed roughly, trying to calm herself.

"How's that for an apology?" she smirked.

"So remind me, Pats," she panted, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Patsy pushed herself up and moved sideways, sitting against the pillows beside Delia, who repositioned herself so that she could rest her head in Patsy's lap.

"I was excused from clinic because I was overtired," she explained, allowing her fingers to dance through Delia's dark hair, "Mrs Turner prescribed an afternoon of bedrest,"

"Have you been sleeping badly?"

"Yes," she nodded, "It's nothing to worry about though. It's been a long few days but by this time next week, I'll be sleeping soundly again,"

She was aware that the cheeriness in her voice sounded strained. The pressure in her lap shifted as Delia turned her head to look up at her. She scrutinised Patsy's expression closely, until the redhead blushed and folded her arms.

"Why are you staring at me like that?"

"Something's up, isn't it? What aren't you telling me, Patsy?"

"I don't know what you mean,"

Inside, Patsy was cursing herself. She should have known that she would not have been able to keep anything concealed from Delia for too long. The Welshwoman was far too sharp and knew her far too well to allow even the tiniest detail to escape her notice. Patsy may have been well practised in keeping things hidden from others, but Delia Busby was her one weakness.

"You haven't been yourself lately,"

"Like I said, I've been tired. Besides, you've barely been here lately to see me anyway,"

"This is the first time you've set foot in my room in three days,"

"And that's some sort of proof of my guilt, is it?"

Delia sat up quickly, bringing her head level with Patsy's so that they were eye to eye. Her hands were thrown down on either side of Patsy's hips and the midwife felt increasingly trapped. She knew that she should just be honest with Delia and tell her that Trixie knew everything, but she was terrified that Delia might blame her for their exposure, and might even want to move out of Nonnatus House, unable to bear the loss of her privacy. For a minute she was convinced that as long as Delia was oblivious to Trixie's knowledge, then nothing would change and everything would stay exactly as it was.

Without warning, Delia suddenly flung herself forward, kissing Patsy hard on the mouth, the earlier tenderness gone completely. Before Patsy had a chance to respond, Delia abruptly pulled back again, her chest rising and falling heavily from the exertion.

"Go on then," she said bitterly, nodding her head towards to door, "Go and get that bedrest that you need so badly,"

"Delia, I don't…"

There was no use in protest or reasoning; Delia was going to have none of it. Her anger and hurt was blindingly apparent in her narrowed eyes and tightened lips.

"No. If you're telling me that nothing is the matter, then clearly you do. Go,"

 _She was being asked to leave_.

Patsy felt her throat constrict until she was certain that she couldn't breathe. Stumbling to her feet, she walked numbly to the door, feeling sick to the stomach. When she reached out to grasp the cold door handle, she desperately croaked one final plea, but Delia had her book back in her hand, gaze adamantly fixed to the page. She staggered into the corridor, one hand covering her mouth, attempting to smother the violent sobs that had begun to rack her body. Her head fell back against the door, and she squeezed her eyes tightly shut, trying to dam the flood of tears about to burst forth.

She had lied to Delia, and now she did not know what price she was going to pay.


	6. Chapter 6

**I would just like to say a huge thank you to everybody who has kept up with this story so far. I cannot express how much I appreciate all of the reviews and support, and I am very open to hearing any suggestions as well. I hope that you continue to enjoy reading this work, and I promise that the mood will eventually lighten up! It has been a bit of an emotional rollercoaster for some of the residents of Nonnatus House in the past few chapters, but they say that good things come to those who wait.  
Anyway, back to the story!**

Rain lashed ferociously against the windows of Nonnatus House. The unseasonably warm weather of the past few weeks had come to an end, and icy winds and merciless torrents of water had been a harsh reminder to the residents of Poplar that the days of blue skies and mild evenings were not to last.

Patsy was sat on the edge of her bed, cardboard box in hand, staring morosely at its contents. A picture of Delia, which wonderfully captured her charm and beauty in its monochrome perfection, lay on top. Reaching out, Patsy ran her fingertips along the photographs shiny surface, as if her contact with this version of Delia, forever frozen in ink and paper, would somehow repair the broken bond between her and the real Delia.

A knock on the door brought her back to her senses, and she quickly stowed the box back beneath the bed.

"Come in,"

Barbara opened the door, giving Patsy her usual cheerful but naïve smile. It was clear to see that she had not recognised any tension or hostility between any of the other housemates, and so was going about her business as she always did.

"Trixie's making Bournvita. Do you want to come down and join us for some?"

The truthful answer was no. Patsy was not sure that she could bear to see Trixie. Although she knew that her argument with Delia was not technically Trixie's fault, she still blamed her. If it had not been for Trixie's interference, her deepest secret would still be safely under wraps.

"Barbara I'm not…"

"Oh, do go on, Patsy! We even managed to salvage some cake from Sister Monica Joan's assault on the kitchen too. Besides, you don't want to be sat up here alone with that racket outside,"

Sighing, Patsy pulled herself to her feet.

"Fine, you've convinced me!" she said, even allowing the other midwife a small grin, unable to stay angry at somebody so ceaselessly optimistic, "Who's on call tonight anyway?"

"Well, Sister Mary Cynthia just got called out with Sister Winifred to a birth on the Isle of Dogs, and Nurse Crane is at a premature birth with Sister Julienne, so I'm next up,"

Patsy could not help but shiver at the idea of going out in this weather, and Barbara noticed it.

"I know! The weather is simply frightful. Honestly, I hope that nobody else goes into labour until the storm has blown right over because the last thing I want to do is go out in that,"

She pointed at the window just as a particularly strong gust of wind hurled itself against the glass, making the panes shake violently in their frames.

They made it down into the living room just as Trixie brought in their mugs. She set them down on the table before flopping into an armchair opposite Patsy, who determinedly avoided making eye contact with her. Barbara looked back and forth from each of them, wondering had brought on the silence. She had noticed the hushed whispers and pointed stares between her friends in the last week, but had put it out of her mind, not wanting to intrude into their personal affairs.

Before Barbara had the opportunity to break the uncomfortable quiet with some polite conversation, the front door bell sounded.

"I'll get it!"

Barbara leapt up and hurried off, leaving Trixie and Patsy alone. Trixie's lips were tightly pursed, her head resting in her palm, and she had her sights fixed firmly on Patsy.

"Do you want to tell me why you've been ignoring me for the past few days, Nurse Mount?"

Patsy rolled her eyes, her irritation at Trixie's use of her formal title incensing her even further.

"Oh, don't pretend that you don't know exactly what's going,"

"I'm not pretending. A few days ago you didn't seem to have a problem with me knowing about you and Delia, but all of a sudden, you've gotten very cagey indeed,"

"Maybe I'm just tired of you prying into my private life,"

Trixie flew to her feet, ready to retaliate, but Barbara walked back in, followed by a slightly bedraggled looking Delia. There was a moment of confusion, as Delia and Barbara tried to comprehend the scene, and Patsy and Trixie tried to act as though nothing was the matter.

"Look who I found at the door!"

Patsy felt briefly sorry for Barbara, who was tirelessly trying to keep spirits raised, but she forgot that pity when Delia stepped further into the room. Her shoulders and hair were soaked from the rain, and a part of Patsy ached to run to her and encompass her in her arms until she was warm and dry again.

"The bus was delayed back from the London," Delia said, "The winds have blown down fences, trees… anything really. The streets are chaotic,"

"I don't doubt it," Trixie murmured, sitting back down, "This is the worst storm I've seen in a long time,"

The shrill noise of the telephone echoed down the hallway, and Barbara rushed off again to answer it. Delia sat down at the far end of the sofa, deliberately putting herself as far away from Patsy as she could. Even Trixie, who did not yet know of their fight, could see that there was friction between them. However, her earlier clash with Patsy had clouded her judgement, and her mouth was now working independently from her head.

"Trouble in paradise?"

On any other day, Trixie would never have dared to raise the sensitive subject of anybody's relationship right in front of them… least of all Patsy and Delia's. But, she had had a ridiculously long day of work, and the appalling weather was doing nothing to help ease her mood.

Delia's head snapped up.

"What did you say?"

" _I said…_ "

"We heard what you said!"

Patsy was shouting before had she even realised it. Delia was perched on the lip of the sofa, hands clenching the material, jaw grinding furiously, ready to throw herself into battle. Trixie had a sickening smile plastered onto her face, and her nails, filed into talons, rapped impatiently on the armrest.

"Don't tell me that you haven't told her, Patsy,"

"Told me what?!"

Both women had their eyes on Patsy, waiting for an explanation. The gale outside howled, and Patsy could not help but wish that she was out there too, being battered by the elements, rather than being stuck inside here. Yet again, she was saved from speaking by Barbara's return.

"Mrs Chesterton has just gone into labour, and judging by what her husband said, contractions are four minutes apart, so I need to leave right away, Patsy, you're next on call,"

There was a moment where Barbara hung back, and looked around, as if she wanted to ask what was happening, or to offer some help, but something stopped her. She merely nodded her farewell, and a couple of minutes later, the front door slammed shut behind her.

"What haven't you told me?"

Delia's voice was barbed and full of anger, but Patsy knew that she was just trying to hide her dread and hurt.

"She hasn't told you that I know," Trixie answered plainly.

And then the telephone rang.


	7. Chapter 7

**I am trying to keep updating as regularly as possible, but this does mean that I am having to break the story down into smaller pieces than I normally would. I'm afraid that this also means that there may be a fair few more cliff-hangers to come, but what's life without whimsy? Again, thank you very much for reading and reviewing, I appreciate it greatly.**

It rang three times before anybody even moved. Somehow, in the midst of the storm, it sounded far more sinister and haunting than it ever had done, and all three nurses froze, as if terrified to answer it and face what was at the other end of the line.

On the third ring, Patsy went to pick it up. It was crackly; clearly the storm had caused some damage to the telephone lines, but a voice, full of panic and urgency could be heard amongst the background noise.

"Nonnatus House, midwife speaking,"

"It's Mr Gates," shouted the man, "It's my wife. Her waters have broken, and she's screamin' in pain. Please! Please come now!"

Patsy jotted down his address from the contact book lying open beside the telephone.

"I know it's difficult, Mr Gates, but would you be able to tell me roughly how far apart her contractions are?"

"I don't know, nurse. She's screamin' all the time and I can't calm her down,"

There was a twist of anxiety in Patsy's stomach, but she ensured that no trace of this entered her voice.

"Go to her, Mr Gates and run some hot water and get clean towels. I…"

The line was dead.

She dropped the phone down onto the table, and turned to see Delia and Trixie stood in the doorway, waiting nervously for her report.

"I think the storm has cut off our telephone," Patsy began, "But as far as I could make out, Mrs Gates has gone into labour, and is very distressed and in a huge amount of pain,"

There was a deafening crash of thunder overhead, and the lights flickered momentarily.

"You can't go out in this alone, Patsy," Trixie said hoarsely, stepping towards her, "It's getting worse by the minute,"

"Well, what do you want me to do?" Patsy snapped, "In case you hadn't noticed, Nurse Franklin, there's only two qualified midwives here, and so only one of us can leave. We've got no telephone and an emergency situation on our hands. I don't have a choice in the matter, so I'm going alone,"

"No you're not,"

Trixie and Patsy stared up to see Delia looking at them defiantly, arms crossed across her chest.

"What?"

" _I'll go with you_ ,"

"You must be joking,"

"Actually, I'm not," she retorted, "I am a nurse and I have studied obstetrics, you know. I'll be better help to you than having nobody else at all, and Trixie is right. You mustn't go alone,"

Patsy shook her head, and wiped the back of her hand along her upper lip.

"You misunderstand me. I wasn't questioning your abilities as a nurse, Delia, I would never do that. I just don't want to drag you out into the night in these conditions. You've been working all day and this is the last thing that you need,"

Delia moved ever closer, narrowing the space between her and Patsy.

"I couldn't give less of a damn about what I _need_ , Patience Mount. What I _want_ is to go with you and make sure that you're alright. Is that too much to ask?"

There was another roll of thunder up above, but this time, Patsy did not even flinch. She was unable to look away from Delia, whose face was so staunch and resolute. Her beautiful, brave Delia.

"Your call, Nurse Mount," came Trixie's voice.

"Fine," Patsy conceded, "Fine. We'd better get going,"

They packed the instruments quickly, and threw on as many extra layers as they could beneath their uniforms. Fastening her cloak and setting off for the door, Patsy grasped the handle of the leather medical bag and swung it off the bench. Delia grabbed another bag, full of additional supplies, and followed after her. Trixie had not been wrong when she had noted how the intensity of the storm was increasing. Dark patches were growing on the walls and ceilings where the old roof could no longer withstand the full force of the elements, and it gave the impression that the weather was, bit by bit, invading the warmth of Nonnatus House.

"Just be careful!" Trixie instructed them, "Stay on the main roads and watch out for debris in the air or on the ground and…"

"We've got it covered, Trix, don't worry about us,"

The blonde nurse nodded, chewing anxiously on her thumbnail. The two other women reached for the main front door, and yanked it open. A bitingly cold wind streamed in through the doorway, and into the entrance hall, tugging viciously at their hair and clothes as it did. Taking one final look inside, Patsy disappeared into the night and Delia went after her, slamming the door shut as she did, leaving Trixie stood alone and shivering.


	8. Chapter 8

**I found this chapter quite difficult to write. Apologies for any medical inaccuracies; I have tried to research everything to make sure that it is correct, but there may be some errors in there. Again, I hope that you enjoy and all reviews and suggestions are received very gratefully!**

Poplar was barely recognisable. The deluge from above had inundated the streets and scoured the pavements. Slates had been ripped from the roofs, and lay about the floor, shattered into tiny daggers. Metal rubbish bins and flowerboxes had been lifted and hurled across the roads and against walls.

The rainwater had reduced visibility to a few feet, and Patsy had to seize Delia's hand to ensure that she was still by her side. They made the decision to leave the bicycles at Nonnatus House; cycling in this weather would be nearly impossible, and both women felt safer on foot.

Struggling against the wind, Patsy and Delia made it into a street facing away from the direction of the fierce onslaught. They stood back, resting against the brickwork, soaked to the skin and out of breath.

"How much further?" Delia shouted.

Patsy shook her head to get the water out of her fringe and eyes.

"It's not too far. They live near the top of the next street,"

They both knew that getting into the next street required them to leave their temporary shelter and face the full force of the storm again, and they took a moment to gather themselves and prepare to carry on. Patsy opened the top of her bag slightly to check that the instruments inside were still dry, and miraculously, they were.

"Right, let's go," she yelled, but as she made to move, Delia grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

A roof tile the size of a book hit the cobblestones right in front of her with an almighty crash. Had she been standing two feet further forward, it would have knocked her to the ground. Patsy gave a sharp intake of breath, her heart pumping away rapidly within her chest.

"Thank you," she gasped, turning to see her own fear and relief etched on Delia's pale face.

"We need to get indoors,"

They half ran, slipping and sliding on the wet stones, up into the next road, bent double against the horizontal rain, and hammered against the door of the Gates' house.

"Midwife!"

From the window above came a wail and then the sound of heavy footfall on the stairs. The front door was wrenched open and a man with dark hair and weather-beaten skin stood back to let them in.

"I'm so glad that you're 'ere," he said, pushing his hands through his hair, the lines beneath his eyes speaking of his sleep-deprivation and worry, "She's not 'erself and I can't get 'er to settle down at all. All she does is cry and scream, and then sometimes she starts moaning things, like she's speaking to someone who ain't there,"

"I think we'd better go through and see to her,"

Patsy and Delia picked their way through piles of laundry and crates that were littered around the narrow hallway. The only light came from the glass window over the front door and it smelt damp, which added to the overall feeling of claustrophobia. Making their way up the stairs, they heard another howl from the bedroom as, yet again, a clap of thunder echoed out over London.

When they made it into the bedroom, they saw Mrs Gates sat up against the headboard, knees drawn up to her bulging stomach, fingers picking away at the sheets. She jumped at their arrival, but as soon as she had noted their presence, she turned away again, stare fixed on the window.

Patsy was a little shocked at the difference in the woman since she had seen her just one week ago. At the clinic, she had seemed so fearless and proud. Her features had glowed with her zest for life and the joy of pregnancy, but now her cheeks looked hollowed and the radiance had vanished.

"Mrs Gates?"

She recoiled a little when she heard her name, but did not look towards them. Even from a distance, they could see that she was trembling. Then, quite suddenly, she leant over and cried out in pain.

Patsy leant over to Delia, "Count that as a contraction, and time it from now until the next one,"

Delia nodded, checking her watch quickly. Patsy walked slowly towards the bed, and sat down cautiously on the edge, so as not to frighten her.

"Mrs Gates, do you think that you would be able to lie down for me? I need to examine you and I want you to be as comfortable as possible,"

There was no response, and Patsy stared hopelessly around the dingy room, searching for some sort of inspiration as to where she could go from here. Mrs Gates was now rocking back and forth, murmuring slightly, her arms now wrapped tightly around her shins. On her right forearm, Patsy noticed a scar, about two inches long and ivory in colour. She had never seen it before, on account of Mrs Gates usually wearing long-sleeved cardigans over floral dresses. Reaching out, she made to touch it, but Mrs Gates snatched her arm away, in a sudden show of responsiveness, before leaning over and groaning again.

"That's four minutes Patsy," Delia called, checking her watch again.

"She won't lie down, there's nothing I can do," Patsy muttered, "I don't know what the matter is,"

The room was thrown into stark white light as a bolt of lightning flashed out across the inky darkness.

"Please! No! _Stop!_ "

Mrs Gates had thrown herself onto her side and was thumping the mattress, crying hysterically and clutching her stomach with one hand.

Patsy made to run towards her, to try to restrain her, but Delia prevented her.

"I've seen this before, Pats," she whispered, pulling Patsy back into the corner of the room, "It was in the London a few years ago. I didn't recognise it until now, but the way she's clutching her stomach and talking to herself; it's just like a patient that we had on male surgical. He was in his mid-thirties… a war veteran, and he'd come in to have his appendix taken out, or something routine like that. Every night, he would wake up shouting and bellowing and try to crawl out of the ward, clutching his right thigh. They use to have to have him sedated; it was a nasty business, but it came out later that he had a sort of war neurosis, brought on by his time in military service, and that being in a hospital environment had triggered it,"

"Do you think that's what this is?"

"Potentially,"

At that moment, Mr Gates knocked gently on the bedroom door, and Patsy went out to see him.

"Is everything alright in there?" he asked timidly.

"We're struggling to get her to respond to us," Patsy admitted, "We think that she is having some sort of reaction to the storm. Do you know of any reason why your wife would be afraid of thunder?"

"Thunder?" he shook his head, "I can't imagine that Mary's got a problem with that. The only thing that I can think of is…" he trailed off, brow furrowed in thought.

"Anything that you can think of could be really important," Patsy encouraged.

"Obviously it was before I knew 'er, but her home got hit by one of those doodlebugs in the war. Blew the place to smithereens, by all accounts,"

"That's very helpful, thank you, Mr Gates,"

"It's Derick, nurse, no need for formalities in this house,"

When Patsy returned to the bedroom, she found that Delia had managed to coax Mrs Gates into lying down during a lull in the storm, and so she took the opportunity to quickly examine her.

"The baby's head is almost crowning," she confirmed, "But this is going to be very difficult unless she cooperates,"

"Did you find out what the problem might be?"

Patsy nodded, and lowered her voice so that she was out of earshot of Mrs Gates.

"Her husband says that her home got hit by a V1 rocket during the war. She would have only been a child, but it's not something that she would be likely to forget,"

Delia clapped a hand over her mouth in horror.

"The poor thing!"

"When you mentioned your patient at the hospital, I realised that I'd seen the symptoms before too, at the camp. I didn't remember it until now, but seeing her reminds me of the way some of the people would be after a long time in imprisonment. They used to have nightmares, and wake up with their eyes all glassy… like they could see right through you."

"Oh, Patsy!"

Delia never failed to feel utterly horrified whenever Patsy mentioned a word about the camps. She wanted to reach over and hug her, as if she might be able to alleviate some of the pain that she had once been caused, but she dared not, still uncertain of where she stood with her beloved.

"Some of the people in the hospital there, who had lost family members, used to talk as if they were there with them, even though they were long dead. It was as if their brain could not quite comprehend what was really happening any longer," Patsy explained, "I'm certain that this is similar to that. Reliving those moments in life when you felt so terrified can have strange effects on your state of mind and begin to make you afraid of things that aren't really there,"

"So what do you suggest?"

"I think that we need to drown out the sound of the thunder. Now,"


	9. Chapter 9

_I am very sorry that it has taken me a while to update. I am currently in the grips of the dreaded exams and everything is a little hectic and stressful. However, I absolutely intend to keep updating as frequently as possible, and writing also provides a nice bit of respite from revision! Good luck to anybody else taking their exams, and to the lucky people who have already done them, well done for surviving!_

Delia quietly made her way back into the room, holding the record player in her arms. Patsy was knelt on the edge of the bed speaking encouragingly to Mrs Gates, and holding her hand tightly. The groans of pain had become more frequent, but Delia was relieved to see Mrs Gates' face appear slightly more focused and alert, with Patsy's voice seeming to help keep her conscious. She could not help but stand and admire Patsy for a moment; she was so attentive and caring, and despite the long night, she had not left her patient's side once.

"I've got it, Pats,"

Patsy looked up and grinned.

"Wonderful! Shift my instruments over and set it down on the bedside table. Have you got a record to put on?"

A rumble of thunder brought on a terrified whimper from Mrs Gates, and Delia hurried to pull the record from the sleeve. When it came free, she saw the name, and could not help but smile. Placing it down, she set the table turning and lowered the needle onto the vinyl. It crackled briefly and then a voice broke through, drowning out the storm.

 _"_ _Angel face, angel face,"_

Patsy looked up in amazement at Delia.

"This song…"

"I know," Delia nodded, biting her lip, "It's been a while since I've heard it,"

Mrs Gates shifted, visibly responding to the sound of the music. It seemed to have a calming effect upon her, and the hard line of her mouth softened. Her shoulders relaxed and she released her grip on the quilt.

"I'm hoping that the relief of stress will ease the pain too," Patsy said, pulling on her rubber gloves, "Tension in the muscles makes the birth far more difficult and painful. I've just checked the baby's heartrate. It's still strong, but her distress is clearly affecting them,"

Delia knew that Patsy knew that she was aware of that information already, but she did not interrupt her, knowing full well that this was Patsy's way of staying calm and in control. Hearing it all said aloud reinforced her certainty that she was doing everything right.

"My baby?" Mrs Gates mumbled.

Patsy turned, her face lighting up in delight. This was the first coherent word that they had heard from Mrs Gates since they had arrived.

"Baby's on the way," Delia interjected quickly, "Any minute now. Just follow what Nurse Mount says,"

"I just need gentle pushes, and then one last big one, Mary,"

Then there was a rush and a wail and…

"It's a beautiful boy,"

A little, beautiful cry sang out from the bed. It was the sound of a new life drawing his first lungful of air in and screaming his arrival to all those around. Patsy swiftly cut the cord, wrapped him up, and placed him in the new mother's outstretched arms. On hearing the cries, Derick Gates charged into the room, his face ecstatic.

"Did I 'ear right? A lil' boy?"

"You certainly did. A very handsome fellow indeed. Congratulations,"

"I can't believe it. My son… Thank you. You saved 'er and you saved 'im. I don't know what I would've done without you both,"

The whirring of the record sounded as the song came to a close, but as Delia went to put it back to the start, Patsy stopped her and shut the lid.

"You needn't bother," she whispered, "Look outside,"

Delia did, and saw with a start that the rain had stopped and the pale glow of a sunrise was just peeking over the roof tops and chimneys.

"It's morning?"

"Almost,"

Mr Gates was ushered out again as Patsy dealt with the placenta delivery and tidied away her instruments. Mother and baby were now sound asleep; the tiny child held tightly in his mother's arms, his little hands twitching as he slept.

Patsy turned to smile at Delia and share the moment of post-birth bliss with her, but when she looked, she saw Delia curled up on the armchair, eyes closed, and breathing soft. She looked so exquisitely angelic that Patsy's chest ached with pure adoration. Taking her cloak, which had been drying in front of the fire, she tucked it around her sleeping form so that she was more comfortable. Careful not to wake her, she kissed the top of her head and left the room.

Derick was waiting for her downstairs.

"Tea?"

"Thank you,"

He passed her a mug and stood at the sink staring out into the street, shaking his head in wonder.

"I'm a father," he murmured, "I can't believe it. I keep trying to work out what it was that I did to deserve to be a father to something so perfect,"

Patsy thought of Delia asleep upstairs and understood exactly what he meant.

"I suppose it's God," Derick concluded, "He works in mysterious ways, that's what they say, ain't it?"

"Yes," Patsy smiled to herself, "He certainly does,"

A creak on the stairs behind them prompted them to turn around. Delia was stood there, the hem of her uniform slightly creased and her eyes misty from sleep. She had their medical bags in her hands.

"I've brought our things down," she said, suppressing a yawn.

Patsy thanked her and turned to Derick.

"I'll be back tomorrow to check everything over and I'll be on daily visits for a while and then weekly visits until everything is sorted. At the present time, it seems that all is in order so I'll let you all settle down to your new family life. In future, if your wife does experience similar distress, don't hesitate to call Doctor Turner out,"

"Thank you, both of you, I'm so grateful,"

He shook their hands once over, and then burst into laughter and shook them again.

"I'm the 'appiest man in the world," he beamed.

Patsy and Delia stepped out into the early morning sunshine and stared around in wonder. The storm had blown over and left the skies bright and blue. A seagull screeched overhead and the hubbub from the docks could just be heard.

"Extraordinary,"

"It's been quite a night," Delia chuckled as they set off.

"It certainly has. I'm so thankful that you came with me, Deels. I do not know what I would have done without you,"

"Nonsense, you would have been fine. You're a wonderful midwife, Patience Mount,"

Rays of light glinted off the windows and sparkled in the pools of rainwater. The red bricks of the buildings gleamed, for it seemed that the storm had given Poplar a sort of spring clean. Algae had been rinsed from the cobbles and grime had been lifted from the stonework. It seemed that today was dawning more brightly than ever before.

They reached the docks, and stood for a moment to appreciate the golden sun climbing up from the horizon, breathing warmth into the heart of London. Fishermen and dockworkers milled about around them, yet they stood still, allowing the rest of the world to continue without them. Finally, Delia looked over.

"I had a lot of time to think last night, Patsy,"

Patsy glanced sideways at her. The breeze was tugging at Delia's dark brown locks, teasing them out of her hair grips and blowing wispy strands across her face. Instinctively Patsy leant over to brush them out of her eyes.

"I thought about what Trixie said, and what you said… and what I said too,"

Staring out over the water, Patsy felt her eyes burning, but she could not tell if it was with the wind or tears.

"And?"

"And I realised that it doesn't matter. Last night reminded me what _does_ matter, and about _who_ matters. I don't care if Trixie knows about us. Good God, Patsy, I wouldn't care if all of London knew. I'd stand on the roof tops and scream it if I could. I'd scream that I love you to every last person in this city until my lungs gave out. You mean more to me than anyone else, and I just want to know that you trust me. We can't keep secrets from each other, especially not when we are each other's greatest secrets,"

Patsy blinked and took a deep, shuddery breath.

"I know. Delia, I love you, and I never meant to hurt you. I was afraid and confused and I wanted you to know, but I was scared that you might want to leave. I…"

Tenderly, Delia placed her hand over Patsy's, feeling the heat of her skin and the soft throb of her heartbeat.

"I'd never leave you, Patsy. All these other complications… we can work them out in our own time. Right now, I just want you,"

"Good, because you're all I have ever wanted, Delia Busby,"

Delia flashed Patsy a grin, her eyes glittering with mischief and her cheeks glowing with happiness. It was moments like these that Patsy wished she could freeze time and capture Delia like that forever. She looked so divine, bathed in the morning light, hair a little ruffled from the night before; it was true what Mr Gates had said: God really did work in mysterious ways.


	10. Chapter 10

_This chapter is to hopefully make up for some of the angst in earlier chapters! I very much hope that you enjoy it, and again, I cannot thank you enough for the reviews; it makes writing even more rewarding and enjoyable._

Stretching to ease the stiffness of sleep, Patsy slowly opened her eyes, blinking against the sunlight. The little clock on the nightstand read that the time was two o'clock in the afternoon. In the quiet, she could hear the mechanism within ticking, cutting away the seconds one by one. It was a strangely comforting sound; one of stability and reassurance.

Beside her, Delia stirred in her sleep, but did not awaken. Her dark hair was splayed out over the pillow, and the sheets were tucked in tightly around her body. The steady rise and fall of her chest was soothing, and her lips were slightly parted. Each breath ruffled the fine, silky hairs fanned out around her head. Every movement was one of intricate perfection.

Patsy allowed her eyes to linger for a few moments longer before turning onto her back to stare at the ceiling. A breeze came through the window, which was ajar, and rippled through the net curtains, causing the beams of light streaming across the white surface to shift and scatter.

With one hand, she rubbed the sleep from her eye, and then propped herself up on her elbow, now fully conscious and aware. Through force of habit, she paused to listen for the noise of approaching footsteps or distant chatter. She heard nothing. Nonnatus House appeared to be empty, with the other residents no doubt out seeing patients or assisting with the storm clear up.

Relaxed in the knowledge that she was safe from discovery in Delia's bedroom, she lay back down, snuggling into her beloved's warm body. The peace gave her a chance to reflect on the events of the night before. Just lying there, she could feel the ache in the muscles in her back and legs from spending such a long period of time kneeling and standing. This discomfort, however, was of no consequence, for the triumph of a delivery of a healthy child eclipsed all else.

When she and Delia had arrived back to Nonnatus that morning, they had been met with an army of nuns and nurses desperate to hear their news. They had briefly traded stories from the night, and congratulated one another for braving the storm, until Nurse Crane had pointed out they all had places to be and jobs to attend to. It was then that Patsy and Delia had been excused to go and get some rest, while the others had hurried off to begin their work. As they had been on their way up the stairs to bed, Patsy happily recalled, Trixie had stopped them, and graciously apologised for her behaviour. They had all made up, the damage repaired, and hugged one another gladly. The knowledge that her friendship with Trixie had been mended now too was wonderful.

As she reflected on this, she felt Delia move beside her. When she looked over, Delia's blue eyes sleepily met her own. A small smile played on her lips as she began to shake off her slumber and recognise where she was.

"Good morning, Nurse Busby,"

Delia shoved her playfully, as she pulled herself up into a sitting position.

"How did you sleep?"

"Well," Delia nodded contentedly, "Especially with you here,"

Patsy pushed the covers over, giving Delia room to move closer to her. The Welsh nurse rested her head on the redhead's shoulder, and gave a happy sigh. Wrapping her arm around her, Patsy breathed Delia's delicious vanilla scent, memorising its sweetness. Using her fingers to hold back the dark hair, Patsy pressed a soft kiss to Delia's forehead.

"Are we going have to get up soon?" Delia asked sadly.

"Oh, don't let's talk about getting up yet. Can we not just be here like this forever?"

Delia laughed and shook her head in disbelief.

"Why are you laughing?"

"I'm just struggling to come to terms with the fact that I just heard Patience Mount ask for a lie-in,"

Patsy chuckled, but gently poked Delia in the ribs for her cheek.

"I didn't actually ask for a lie-in, thank you!"

"Oh, well, what _did_ you ask for then?"

Sitting up straight, Patsy looked at her seriously.

"I asked for forever... With you,"

Delia's pale cheeks blushed, and she bit her lip, her eyes shining with delight.

"Patsy, are you… are you proposing?"

"Yes… yes, I am. I mean, I know that you and I have talked about marriage before, but I realised that we've never actually _said_ it. We've never actually _asked_. Last night taught me that I don't ever want to be without you at my side. You give me a courage that I didn't know that I could have... I suppose you could say that you make me whole, like I was missing something before I met you... So, yes, I am proposing. To you,"

Grinning, Delia took hold of Patsy's hand, and noted the way it was trembling slightly, making her heart swell for the woman.

"You have to do it, Pats. You have to do it properly,"

"What?"

"You know what I mean!"

Giving a mock grumble of exasperation, Patsy swung herself out of bed, pulling Delia with her as she went, making her give a small yelp. They stood face to face at the edge of the bed, with Delia panting a little in anticipation. Giving her a wink and her signature smirk, Patsy stepped backwards and steadily lowered herself down onto one knee. Delia could not help but giggle at the sight of her Patsy, knelt on the rug in front of her, dressed in her striped nightshirt with her hair still somewhat tousled from sleep.

"Delia Busby…"

" _Yes?_ "

" _Will you marry me?_ "

It was by far the easiest question in the world. There was nothing that she could have been more certain about; there was nobody with which she could be more in love. Yes, they would have to wait for it to become reality, and yes, there were still obstacles to overcome. But, at the end of the day, when the rest of the world slipped away and they were alone, she knew that there was not another soul on earth that she would rather be with, and that, she smiled, would never change.

"Patsy,"

Butterflies fluttered through her stomach, and she gripped Patsy's hand tighter, needing to feel her there with her.

" _Yes_ ,"


	11. Chapter 11

_**Again, I am very sorry about the time it has taken for me to update! Revision has taken over much of my free-time and it has been very hard to find a moment to sit and write.**_

 _ **Please give me honest feedback about this chapter. I am not entirely convinced that I am happy with it, but it was the best that I felt able to produce. Thank you very much for keeping up with this story and for all of the reviews too.**_

It was late afternoon when Patsy and Delia finally emerged from Delia's room. They came downstairs, smiling and laughing, and were greeted by Barbara, who was sat at the kitchen table, tucking into a slice of cake.

"Hello, Babs!"

Barbara grinned cheerfully at them, "I wondered if you two were home! I've only just gotten up myself, I slept like an absolute log after last night, would not have woken up for all the world!"

Patsy dug her nails into her palm in a desperate attempt to hold back hysterical laughter when she heard Delia whisper _"_ _Oh thank God for that,"._ She could not help but feel absolute relief that Barbara was unaware that she had spent the night, and much of the morning, for that matter, in Delia's room.

Oblivious to the situation, Barbara ploughed on with her exuberant small talk.

"I've really never seen a storm like it! Not for years, anyway. It was just terrible. Really wet and wild,"

It was a miracle that Patsy did not choke when Delia nodded her head vigorously and replied, "Oh, it _really_ was. Very wet and wild indeed,".

Patsy promptly dissolved into a fit of violent coughs when Delia gave her an exaggerated wink just out of Barbara's sight. She clung to the table to steady herself, painfully aware of her burning cheeks. That Welshwoman would most surely be the death of her.

Thankfully the conversation soon moved on, and Patsy was able to sit quietly and recover. It did not seem like long before their colleagues began to arrive back from their day shifts. Trixie's voice could be heard in the hall, and chatter and footsteps in the medical room.

"Good evening, all!"

"'Evening, Trixie. How're things?"

The blonde nurse shrugged, "As you'd expect. Poplar's in a bit of a state. Some areas got off lightly, but there are other parts, particularly down by the docks, that have really suffered,"

"Any injuries?"

Nurse Crane, who had just entered the living room, looked up, her face surprised.

"Haven't you heard?"

"Heard what?"

Delia turned around anxiously, "We've not been awake long, we haven't heard any news about the storm other than what we heard last night,"

The older nurse shook her head sadly, "It's a bad business, I'm afraid,"

Patsy felt the insides of her stomach turn and she was overcome with a sense of nausea. In a desperate bid to ease her stress, she glanced at Trixie in hope that the blonde nurse would flash her a grin and assure her that the news was not really so bad at all, but she saw a similar sorrowful expression mirrored on her face.

"What's happened?" Barbara asked nervously.

"Let's talk about it after dinner," Trixie mumbled, "It's upsetting,"

"That's no reason to avoid it," Nurse Crane said reproachfully, "Besides, it's not as if it directly affects us. It's just an unfortunate incident, Nurse Franklin,"

Trixie looked over at Patsy, and the redheaded nurse was unsettled to see an apologetic look in her eye.

"A man died last night," Nurse Crane explained, "It seems that he was struck in the head by some flying debris,"

"Oh, how terrible!" Barbara exclaimed.

"I'm not finished, Nurse Gilbert," Nurse Crane scolded her, "Will you please wait until I have quite finished before you make your feeling on the matter known,"

"I… sorry,"

"As I was saying, the man in question who died had been missing from home for several hours before he was found. The police believe that he had been visiting…" She paused, briefly shifting uneasily, "He had been visiting another man… with whom he was having some sort of extra-marital affair,"

Patsy felt Delia tense beside her, and saw the colour drain from her cheeks.

"What's happened now?" Patsy whispered, her voice hardly sounding like her own.

Nurse Crane's brow creased as she tried to decipher the meaning of Patsy's reaction, but she only allowed the confusion to occupy her for a few seconds.

"You'd have to ask the police for the full details, which I feel sure that they would be unlikely to give you, but I am under the impression that they have prosecuted the man that he was believed to have been meeting,"

"Already?! Under what charge?!" Delia gaped in horror.

"Gross indecency, Nurse Busby,"

The Welsh nurse flew to her feet and she paced the carpet, fists clenched in anger.

"Surely you can't agree with this?!" she cried.

"Whether or not I agree with it is utterly irrelevant, Nurse Busby. This is a police matter. I am merely relaying the information to you! Really, I must insist that you calm down; your attitude is most unbecoming and directing your feelings of injustice towards me is incredibly unfair,"

Patsy leant out and placed a calming hand on Delia's shoulder, fighting to contain her own emotions.

"Leave it, Deels," she urged quietly, "Nurse Crane is right, this is not her fault at all,"

Delia managed to recover herself to murmur an apology and Nurse Crane graciously accepted it before leaving the room, Barbara tagging along behind her. The moment they left, Trixie rushed over to Delia.

"Are you out of your mind?" she hissed, "Delia, I know it's unjust, but advocating your views so strongly is going to raise serious suspicion,"

Patsy leapt to her defence immediately.

"Delia was just standing up for what she believes in!"

"With all due respect Patsy, it's not a belief that many share. You both need to be more careful,"

Gearing herself up to retaliate, Patsy opened her mouth to heatedly retort, but Delia shushed her.

"She's right, Pats. I flew off the handle and I shouldn't have,"

Sinking down into the sofa, she put her head in her hands and took a deep shuddery breath. Just minutes ago, she had been in a state of ecstatic happiness, and now reality had barged back in to tear down any misconceptions of security that she had built for herself.

Trixie saw how upset she was, and so gently set herself down beside her.

"Delia," she began kindly, "I know that this is all horrid, horrid, horrid. But you shouldn't dwell upon it,"

"How can I not?" Delia said despondently, "There's a man sitting in a cell tonight who should not be there and there is another man dead,"

"Did Nurse Crane say that the man who died was married?" Patsy asked, the thought suddenly occurring to her.

Trixie nodded, "Yes, with two children,"

"That's even worse!" Delia burst out.

"Well, yes, it's very sad… but he was cheating on her, Delia. That's adultery,"

"It doesn't mean that he deserved to die,"

"I never said that,"

From down the hall there was a shout that dinner was prepared. Patsy produced a handkerchief for Delia to dry her eyes. Trixie looked at them both seriously.

"If the topic is to arise during dinner, please, both of you, say as little as possible,"

Patsy shook her head morosely, "It's like Tony Amos all over again,"

Trixie rubbed her shoulder comfortingly, "I know, and that was terrible too, but it will do you nor anybody else any good to keep thinking of it. Just put it out of your head and get some food inside you. You can't have eaten a thing for almost the whole day!"

Her words reminded Patsy of her hunger, and her stomach growled in response. Trixie heard it, and laughed.

"There, see! Now, come on. I think I can smell a casserole!"

She hurried off down the corridor and Patsy stopped to squeeze Delia's hand supportively before following Trixie's lead and heading for the dining room.


	12. Chapter 12

_**I did enjoy writing this chapter, and so I very much hope that you enjoy reading it as much. Once again, I cannot thank you enough for the reviews, and I am very open to any suggestions that you may have.**_

It took less than five minutes for somebody to raise the issue of the deceased man at the dinner table. Patsy was not concentrating enough to identify who it was in particular, but Trixie's barely concealed groan was a reminder to her to stay on her best behaviour and keep her head down.

Initially, the views given at the table were ones of sympathy, with the nurses nodding in polite agreement to one another about what a tragedy it was. Patsy felt a wash of relief; perhaps this would not be so difficult after all.

"And so young as well," Sister Mary Cynthia said sadly, "His poor family,"

Alarm bells began to ring in Patsy's head, however, when Sister Winifred started cleared her throat to speak. The nun was renowned for having very strong opinions on certain matters. Delia's knuckles turned white as she clenched her cutlery tightly in her fist, desperately trying to prepare herself for what was coming.

"Indeed," the nun nodded, "His poor family being disgraced by his disgusting sodomy. It really is terrible,"

The blow seemed worse than Patsy had imagined that it would be. She knew that the topic of family would be particularly sensitive for Delia, and her fears were confirmed when she saw that the Welsh nurse looked green and almost ready to be sick.

"At least the response of the police was good and efficient," she continued, oblivious to the uncomfortable silence that had fallen, "They can try to preserve the dignity of his wife, at least, by dealing with the other man as quickly as possible. She is the real victim here,"

"Oh, _quite_ ,"

Patsy was shocked when Delia spoke. Her tone was utterly scathing and the sarcasm palpable.

"It's obvious, really, isn't it? I mean, _yes_ , both men have probably spent their whole lives living in fear, and have almost certainly been plagued with worry and anxiety for their every waking minute about who and what they are, and the man in a cell at the moment is likely to be grieving the loss of his lover too now, as well as facing a jail sentence, or some horrific medical 'cure'… but no, I agree with you, Sister. That _poor wife_ ,"

She shook her head in pretend disbelief, as if the idea that anybody could believe that somebody other than the wife could be the person really suffering. Patsy stared at her, completely dumbfounded.

It was only Sister Winifred who seem unperturbed.

"I hasten to point out that the men who you race to defend, Nurse Busby, are also guilty of the crime of adultery,"

"That indeed is an act of wrongdoing, and not one that I will attempt to justify,"

"It seems incredible to me that you can try to justify any of it at all,"

Delia gave her a witheringly derisive smile.

"I am not trying to justify it, Sister. I am merely trying to help those with pitifully closed minds to see the bigger picture,"

She then lowered her voice to a stage whisper, as if she was sharing a secret with the now incensed nun.

"There are _some_ people here, Sister Winifred, who are incapable of…"

"That's enough, Nurse Busby,"

Sister Julienne cut her off quickly, and Sister Winifred visibly relaxed a little when the Welsh nurse gave an obedient nod and stood up.

"Forgive me, I think that I shall retire to my room,"

"That may be for the best," Sister Julienne said, standing also.

Delia left the room and the Sister-in-Charge looked around at the table.

"I want no more said on this matter, is that understood? It is a private family affair and one that I am not permitting any further discussion on,"

"Here, here," Sister Winifred piped up, trying to ingratiate herself with Sister Julienne once more.

Patsy shot her a contemptuous glare.

"Oh, do shut up,"

"Yes," Trixie added, "Please do,"

Both nurses stood, their chairs making a horrific grinding noise on the floor. Trixie followed Delia's lead, and disappeared into the corridor, with Patsy close behind her. The door swung shut behind them with a bang. Sister Winifred blinked stupidly.

"Well! What was that all about? Such appalling conduct cannot be tolerated at the dinner table, surely!"

"I am sorry, Sister Winifred," Nurse Crane said apologetically, "But I'm afraid that you're going to have to endure yet another piece of appalling conduct from yet another one of your colleagues,"

Saying no more, she too left her seat and walked from the room.

Barbara bit back a smile, and down at her plate. This was the most eventful supper that Nonnatus House had experienced in quite a while.

"And again!" Sister Winifred cried, "Their behaviour is abominable,"

Sister Monica Joan, who had been suspiciously quiet throughout the entire dispute, looked across at Sister Winifred, her old eyes sparkling with amusement.

" _When the debate is lost, slander becomes the tool of the loser_ ," she beamed, "I advise that you take heed of the words of Socrates, my dear, or else you may find that you make a fool of yourself at this table again,"

This time, Barbara failed to control her laughter and snorted loudly into her lap. Sister Julienne even allowed herself a wry smile.

"I'm going to call this dinner to an end," she announced, "I feel that this has gone on long enough. Sister Mary Cynthia, if you would be so kind as to clear the table, and Nurse Gilbert, when you next see Nurses Franklin, Mount and Busby, please inform them that I wish to see them in my office later this evening,"

The grin was wiped from Barbara's face. Although she did not know about what was really going on with the other nurses, the idea that her friends could be in some sort of difficulty made her uneasy.

"Are they in trouble, Sister?"

"No, Nurse Gilbert," she assured her kindly, "But I do wish to discuss the issue of dinnertime etiquette with them,"

"Of course. I'll tell them right away,"


	13. Chapter 13

_**Just a short update here! Usually, I would try to avoid doing a chapter that is almost entirely speech, but I did like the idea of having a small segment of the story dedicated to the younger nurses during their time off duty. Thank you ever so much for the amazing reviews, it means the world! And also, to anybody else facing the last few weeks of exams, best of luck!**_

Barbara could hear chatter and giggling from down the corridor, and so knocked gently on the door of Trixie and Patsy's shared room.

"Trix? Patsy? Is it alright if I come in?"

Trixie opened the door herself and gave her brunette friend a dazzling, if slightly sheepish smile.

"Hallo Babs," she grinned, "Are we in very awful trouble downstairs?"

Barbara made her way inside and perched herself on the end Trixie's bed. Patsy and Delia were sat cross-legged on the other bed next to her. Neither looked quite as chipper as Trixie, but seemed fairly happy nonetheless.

"No," she shook her head, "In fact, I think Sister Julienne found it all rather amusing. And she can hardly reprimand you very seriously, especially not considering the fact that less than forty seconds after you marched out, Nurse Crane followed you on too!"

Trixie gave a squeal.

"You're not serious!"

"Deadly! She got up and walked out, just like you!"

"Oh, God, how I wish I had seen that! I bet Sister Winifred had a face like a slapped arse!"

"Trixie!" Patsy said reproachfully.

"Oh, cheer up, Pats! It was brilliant!"

"It was!" Barbara nodded enthusiastically, "But Sister Julienne _does_ want to see the three of you in her office later this evening,"

Trixie looked up in surprise and Delia gave a groan and put her head in her hands.

"I thought you said that we weren't in trouble?!"

"You're not. I think she just wants to ask you not to partake in such lively debate when everybody is eating,"

"I should have listened to you, Trixie," Delia sighed remorsefully, "I'd already lost my temper once that evening, and then I went on to do it again, despite you asking me not to!"

Trixie shoved her playfully.

"Oh, sod that! You gave her the dressing down that she deserved. She's always getting so awfully high and mighty about silly things. It's about time that somebody put her in her place,"

"I didn't want to upset her,"

"She'll have forgotten it by the morning, mark my words,"

Barbara chuckled to herself and the three other nurses stared over at her.

"What's so amusing then, Nurse Gilbert?"

"I don't think Sister Winifred will forget it… Sister Monica Joan…" she dissolved into a fit of giggles and clutched the mattress to try and get the words out, "… Sister Monica Joan called her a fool in front of everybody,"

"You're pulling my leg!"

"Am not!" Barbara retorted indignantly, "Ask anybody who was there!"

Trixie flopped back onto her bed and gave a howl of laughter.

"She may drive me mad sometimes, but I do love Sister Monica Joan,"

Patsy checked her wristwatch and gave a sharp intake of breath through her teeth.

"Damn," she muttered, "We'd better go down and see Sister Julienne,"

Barbara leapt up and went for the door.

"I'll tell her that you're on your way,"

"Cheers, Babs," Trixie thanked her before turning around, "Listen, you two. You haven't got a thing to worry about. You heard what Barbara just said; you've got a great many friends here who have got your back. Discard those guilty consciences and relax; you're in safe hands,"

Trixie seemed so confident that Patsy's nervousness felt instantly lessened. She was so very glad that they had resolved the argument that they had had last night, and that Trixie Franklin was now firmly back in her corner.


	14. Chapter 14

_**Once again, enjoy this chapter, and, once again, thank you for the reviews! Words cannot express the joy it gives me to know that you are reading this work at all, let alone liking it! I really do appreciate it, so, thank you!**_

Sister Julienne sat back in her chair and sighed. It had been quite a day, and even her usually unsurpassable resilience was beginning to feel a little tried. The bones in her shoulders ached, and she could not help but sink down a little in her seat, trying to relieve a some of the tension from her back and neck.

The papers lying on the desk in front of her were scattered messily about, and she was momentarily startled at the untidiness that was so out of character for her. Compulsively, she reached out and gathered them together, placing them back down in a neat pile. Even then, she still felt as though there was something else bothering her. Her hands were unconsciously twitching in her lap, so she picked up the papers once again, unnecessarily rearranging them. She could not identify what is was causing her such trouble, but she put it down to fatigue.

 _"_ _Yes,"_ she murmured, _"_ _That will be it,"_

A knock roused her from her dream-like state.

"Sister?"

Hastily, she sat up straight in her chair, and adjusted her habit.

"Yes, enter,"

The three nurses crept inside. Sister Julienne's office had an aura that commanded respect, and not one of them spoke a single word until she stood too and gestured towards the chairs opposite her.

"Please, sit down,"

They did so, their heads dipped slightly, as if they fully expected a serious scolding.

"You needn't look _quite_ so terrified,"

Trixie was the first one to steal a glance upwards, and saw with relief that Sister Julienne was smiling at them.

"If you are afraid that I am going to be angry about the events of this evening, then you are mistaken,"

"You would be perfectly within your right to be angry," Delia said apologetically, "And I am chiefly to blame. I lost my temper, and I should not have done. I am so very sorry,"

"Thank you, Nurse Busby. I appreciate that,"

"I'm sorry too," Patsy mumbled, "I should not have reacted the way that I did. It was rude and unhelpful,"

"Thank you, Nurse Mount,"

There was a pause, and Sister Julienne looked at Trixie with an almost expectant look. Trixie met it somewhat defiantly.

"You don't… you don't agree with Sister Winifred do you, Sister?" she asked.

"That's a bit beside the point, Nurse Franklin,"

"Yes, but… with all due respect, her views are bigoted and shallow,"

Patsy tried desperately not to smile at Trixie's matter-of-fact tone.

"You must understand, Nurse Franklin, that Sister Winifred is as entitled to an opinion as you or I. Whilst you wish for her to be more tolerant towards others, I'm afraid that I wish it of you to be more tolerant of her. Sister Winifred was raised in a different environment to you, and has had different experiences of the world which have, naturally, shaped her opinion of it. It is not for you or anybody else to call that her judgement question. You must, instead, set the example of tolerance yourself and hope that she will take inspiration from that,"

Trixie kicked her feet a little obstinately and folded her arms tightly across her chest. Her mouth was pulled taut into a hard line.

"Nurse Franklin?" Sister Julienne said gently, "I understand your frustration, and I admire your ambition for our world to be more accepting, but you realise that if everybody was to try and force their views onto everybody else, there would be chaos? It is, I am afraid, only possible for us to lead by example, and hope that others follow on. Do you see this?"

Trixie nodded, if a little reluctantly.

"Yes, Sister Julienne,"

"This may be asking too much from you, but would you perhaps consider apologising to Sister Winifred?"

A disdainful scorn from Trixie and shared look of horror between Patsy and Delia was the answer to her question.

"Not at all?" she asked, slightly too hopefully.

"It really depends on whether she is willing to apologise to Patsy and Delia… and me, obviously," Trixie added quickly.

"Perhaps if you make the first move she will return the apology?"

Trixie shook her head, "I'm sorry, but I'm not prepared to take that chance,"

"Very well. I understand. In that case, I have nothing more to say. You are dismissed,"

"Thank you, Sister,"

They left quickly and hurried up the stairs and out of earshot. With an exaggerated gasp, Trixie pretended to faint and flopped down against the wall. Patsy kicked her affectionately.

"Get up, you clown,"

Trixie jabbed Patsy's shin with her foot.

"Did I not say that we would be fine? I did say that, didn't I?!"

Delia rolled her eyes.

"Yes, yes you did, but I'm not sure that it's any thanks to you! You're an absolute devil when you want to be! Poor Sister Julienne getting an earful off you!"

Trixie shrugged nonchalantly and heaved herself to her feet.

"Just standing up for what I believe in! Anyway, I'm off to bed. Coming, Patsy?"

Trixie's ever observant eyes flicked knowingly between her and Delia, and even in the dim light, they seemed to sparkle, as if she was really amusing herself. Patsy froze, and felt hot blood rush to her cheeks. The look in her friend's face was so scandalously suggestive that she could hardly move a muscle.

"Patsy?" she asked again.

"Yes… yes I'm coming," she managed to speak, despite the fact that I felt as if her tongue had swollen in her mouth.

Why was she suddenly so nervous? She knew that Trixie knew that she frequently spent the night with Delia. Maybe it was that she had never been confronted so openly about it. She was used to being with Delia in private; she was still getting grips with the fact that Trixie was in the know.

"I guess that it's goodnight then, Pats,"

Patsy was a little devastated to see a flicker of disappointment in Delia's face, but she blocked it out and nodded.

"Yes… goodnight Delia,"

Cursing herself inwardly, she went inside and closed the door, leaving Delia stood by herself in the corridor.


	15. Chapter 15

_**Just as a warning, this chapter does contain some suggestive themes. Nothing is explicitly mentioned, but it is briefly inferred. Please enjoy, and, as always, every review is read and enormously appreciated!**_

The bedroom window was thrown open in the hope that a light breeze could be tempted inside, but the room remained just as stuffy as ever. Patsy tossed and turned back and forth, trying desperately to find a comfortable position, but her efforts were in vain. No matter which way she moved, the covers seemed to cling to her body in an almost suffocating embrace. Eventually she kicked them off entirely, and flung herself back and lay out spread-eagled on the mattress.

Beside her, the bedside lamp flicked on unexpectedly, blinding Patsy momentarily. When her eyes accustomed to the new light, she saw Trixie sat up in her own bed.

"What… Trixie?"

"I can't even hope to get to sleep with you thrashing about, Patsy! Honestly, you haven't managed to stay still for a full minute since we came to bed,"

"I'm sorry, it's because I didn't get up until the early afternoon… and it's so damned hot in here!"

Trixie rubbed her eyes and groaned in frustration.

"Look, the window won't open any wider,"

"I know that,"

There was an awkward pause, until Trixie finally broke it.

"Patsy," the blonde nurse sighed, "If… if you want to go and be with Delia, then go and be with her. Earlier on, I put you under pressure and I shouldn't have done. I'm not going to pass any sort of judgement on you, if that's what you're worried about,"

The redhead shook her head, and began to inadvertently fiddle with the hem of her nightshirt.

"It wasn't that… well, maybe it was. I was just nervous, I suppose,"

"Why would you be nervous? You needn't be nervous of me, if that's it!"

"No, I know that," Patsy smiled, "Sometimes I find it difficult not to overthink things. I'm used to living my life with Delia in private, but now so much more is out in the open… and after I proposed… I…"

Her friend almost bolted out of her bed, and a gave a squeal, causing Patsy to hurriedly shush her.

"You proposed?! To Delia?!"

Patsy grinned at her astounded friend and nodded.

"Earlier this afternoon,"

Trixie shook her head in amazement, "So this is what goes on when Nonnatus House is empty! Oh, how simply wonderful! You must tell me every detail. I want to know everything,"

Suddenly she stopped and scurried out of her bed to the door. Cupping her hands together, she pressed her ear to the wood and listened intently for a few seconds before turning around again.

"The coast is clear. Now, I absolutely insist that you go over to see your fiancée right away. I will have no arguments whatsoever!"

 _Fiancée_ … how incredible that sounded.

"Trixie, you can't order me out of the room!"

"Of course I can. Besides, I won't get a wink of sleep with you in here. You're a nuisance! Off with you!"

She hurled a dressing gown in Patsy's direction and shooed her out into the corridor, before quickly seizing her lapels and tugging her back inside. Grabbing a perfume bottle, she generously sprayed Patsy's neck and bosom.

"There!" she beamed, "Perfect,"

With a little trepidation, Patsy stepped out into the dark corridor. The middle floorboard was notoriously creaky and she carefully avoided treading down on it.

A loud and unexpected grunt caused her to almost leap out of her skin. She threw herself against the wall, hoping desperately that the shadows would hide her if somebody was to leave their room. It took her about three seconds to realise that the noise was, in fact, Nurse Crane's snoring, and she needed every ounce of her willpower to control her urge to burst out laughing.

Hugging her stomach to try and suppress the laughter desperately trying to rise out of her, she half staggered to Delia's room. She did not dare knock for fear of waking those sleeping nearest to her, and there was no need to anyway; Delia, she felt sure, would always welcome her at any hour.

The door opened without making a noise, and Patsy closed it behind her. The moment she was inside, Delia turned over and propped herself up on one elbow, her dark hair tumbling down over shoulders. It was clear that she too had been lying awake. Her mouth opened as if she was going to say something, but Patsy pressed a finger to her lips; a tender warning to be quiet. Delia nodded obediently, and the redhead swept over to her. Gathering her beloved in her arms, Patsy kissed her. A small whimper of appreciation was the only sound that Delia made, but the Welsh nurse was revelling in the feeling of having Patsy above her.

When they eventually broke apart, Patsy leant her forehead down against Delia's, and closed her eyes tightly.

"See," she murmured, "It wasn't goodnight after all,"

"I knew it wouldn't be," Delia chuckled, "I'm far too irresistible for you to be away for long,"

"Mm," Patsy agreed, "That you are,"

Delia put a hand to the nape of Patsy's neck and pulled her into another kiss. This time it was more measured and unhurried; they moved in time with one another, as if acting out a choreographed dance. Patsy varied her grip on Delia's inner thigh, gauging her reaction with the thought and consideration of an experienced lover. The way her hips bucked forward when she pressed herself against her more firmly made her head spin.

With deft fingers, Delia opened up the front of Patsy's shirt and lightly ran her nails across her sternum and then down along her abdomen, feeling her breath hitch when she dipped slightly lower. The redhead pulled away from her lips, burying her face in the crook of Delia's neck to press kisses along her clavicle and muffle the sounds of her enjoyment. Delia gave a little sigh of pleasure.

"Patsy,"

"Mm?"

"I'm so very glad that you came tonight,"

Patsy looked her straight in the eye, and Delia could have sworn that she saw an actual sparkle of devilry with them. Her lips curled into a flirtatious smirk and she lowered her herself until she was level with Delia's ear.

"Delia Busby," she whispered, her voice laden with lust and promise, "You have no idea how glad I am going to make you,"


	16. Chapter 16

_**Back again, and with quite a long chapter! Please let me know what you think in the reviews, it means so much! If there is anything that you would like to see in later chapters, then I am very open to suggestions and really appreciate hearing your thoughts. Thank you again!**_

The moment that the first glimpses of dawn began to show around the edges of the curtains, Patsy slipped silently from Delia's room. At first she considered spending the remaining time before the shrill ring of the alarm clock in her own bed, but eventually decided against it. Instead she changed quickly and quietly in the corner. It was unusual for her to have full use of the mirror, and so she took her time smoothing out the untidy knots of sleep and pinning her copper locks up into her trademark style.

Smiling in satisfaction, she descended the stairs and unloaded the autoclave. By the time she had finished packing her medical bag, she heard the pounding of feet on the stairs as the other nurses made their way down.

Trixie poked her head around the doorframe.

"Ah, there you are! I was wondering where you had gotten to. You're up early,"

Patsy shrugged, "I woke up early. No sense in lying about when there are things to be done,"

"Suit yourself," Trixie yawned, "It's not a philosophy that I'll ever understand. Anyway, breakfast is ready,"

The dining room was busy, with people bustling back and forth. It was noisy too, with directions and orders being called back and forth across the table, but Patsy did not feel much like talking this morning. Instead she helped herself to a plate and sat down.

It was just beginning to quieten down when Delia ran in, still trying adjust her hair as she did, and mumbling apologies for her lateness.

"We wondered when you'd be joining us, Delia," Trixie teased, and Delia pulled a face in return before setting herself down beside Patsy.

"Good morning," she whispered.

"It can't _still_ be morning!" Patsy joked, pretending to check her watch.

"Oh, give over," Delia rolled her eyes, "You must have been up with the lark,"

Patsy eyed her carefully.

"I am sorry for leaving so early,"

"It's alright. I wouldn't have expected you to stay," Delia said, shaking her head, "But you could have at least given me a shove. I only woke up because Trixie gave her door one heck of a slam on the way out,"

"She always does," Patsy grinned, "We've had pictures fall off the wall before,"

Their laughter was interrupted as the morning newspaper dropped down onto the table beside them. Patsy looked up to see Nurse Crane stood above them.

"I don't know if you're still interested in the case, but they're running an article about the Mr Croft case,"

Delia blinked.

"Mr who?"

"The chap who died. He was called Croft, and the man in police custody in police custody is Mr…" she stopped to flick the paper open and check the facts, "Mr Ashworth,"

"I see,"

"It was just if you were still curious about the facts, kid. You don't have to read it, if you don't want to,"

"No… thank you," Delia managed a smile, "I will read it when I get the chance to,"

"Of course,"

Nurse Crane left and Delia stared down at the paper, biting her lip anxiously.

"Are you going to read it?" Patsy asked her softly.

"Honestly, I don't know," Delia said, lightly skimming her fingertips across the inky black lettering on the page, "In the end I might not be able to bear to,"

Patsy nodded, being able to sympathise with her feelings immediately.

"Don't think of it now," she told her, "Put it out of your head. We could look at it later if you want to,"

That seemed to provide some comfort to Delia until she glanced up at the wall clock.

"Oh, heavens! Tell me that isn't the right time!"

Patsy cringed as she checked her wristwatch.

"That clock is telling perfect time, I'm afraid,"

"I don't know what the matter is with me today, I just can't keep up,"

Cursing, Delia bolted down the rest of her breakfast, before bidding Patsy and the rest a good day, and running out of the door. Nurse Crane shook her head in mild disapproval.

"I so rarely see Nurse Busby in any sort of disarray," she commented, "What on earth has come over her?"

"I can't imagine," was all the response that Patsy was able to offer.

The rest of the day passed without incident. Patsy was on the district rounds, and enjoyed being back into her normal routine and being able to work through her tasks methodically. Feeling purposeful and focused again was immensely satisfying, and she ended up finishing her list of appointments early.

The cycle home was particularly pleasant. The heat of the day was just beginning to subside, and the streets were quiet, allowing her to cycle back in peace.

When she entered Nonnatus House, she found that Trixie was the only one a home. The gramophone was playing cheerily in the corner and there were various fashion magazines lying out on the floor of the nurses' sitting room.

"You'll have to clear all of this up before Nurse Crane gets back," Patsy noted, "She'll have a fit if she sees it like this,"

Trixie stretched out in her chair and threw her legs over the armrest; a posture that most certainly would have been frowned upon by the tough older nurse. Shrugging, she exhaled a long stream of smoke before stubbing out her cigarette.

Patsy made to sit down on the sofa before recognising the morning newspaper amongst the magazines. As she made to pick it up, Trixie stopped her hand.

"I wouldn't, Pats. It doesn't make for a good read. There's hardly any facts about the case at all. It's just been written to appeal to fans of gossip and scandal,"

"Really?"

"Really. The journalist who wrote it is a pig. Do yourself a favour and give it a miss, old girl. Cigarette?"

The blonde nurse hooked her toe beneath the paper and kicked it away, before passing Patsy the cigarette pack. She gratefully took one, and they sat together without talking for a little while, just listening to the music. When the record ended, Trixie threw her magazine onto the floor with a slap.

"Right, I'm bored. Let's go and sit outside. It's such a pleasant afternoon; it would be a shame to miss it,"

"We're not going anywhere until you at least arrange those into some sort of presentable pile," Patsy said, pointing at the mess around Trixie's feet.

"Oh, do be quiet," Trixie grumbled, and she stood up to kick them underneath her armchair so that they were just out of sight, "There. All tidy,"

"You're unbelievable,"

Trixie blew her a kiss and winked.

"I know,"

Fred was working on the vegetable patch when they sat out on the steps. He tipped his hat to them and shouted something vague about a new business venture that he was working on.

"It'll make me rich, you mark my words, Nurse Franklin,"

"Fred, you're not going to do anything of the sort. I can't have you gallivanting off to be an entrepreneur when the middle stove still isn't working, the bath leaks, the toilet lightbulb has blown and my rear tyre has deflated again,"

Fred gave her a cheeky grin and got back to his digging. From down the road, there was the loud honk of a bus horn.

"That'll be Deels' bus," Patsy said, nudging her friend, "Let's go and meet her, I'm sure she'd appreciate that,"

"I've been on my feet almost all day Pats. I doubt I shall even be able to stand, let alone to walk to the end of the street. You shall have to carry me back inside bridal style, I warn you now,"

Patsy grabbed her by the hands and hauled her upright.

"Don't be ridiculous. Come on,"

Trixie made various disgruntled noises, but relented in the end, and they set off down towards the bus stop. The double decker bus was indeed sat there, and Patsy's pace quickened as she saw Delia inside. When she noticed that Trixie was not keeping up, she flicked her head around and gestured impatiently.

"Trixie, if you were going any slower you'd be going backwards,"

"No, Pats…"

The blonde nurse had stopped and was pointing forwards.

"What?"

"Something isn't right… look,"

When Patsy looked back around, she saw with horror that Trixie was right. Delia was being supported by the bus driver and another male passenger, and it seemed that her legs were barely able to keep her upright. Her head was slumped forward and her shoulders were shaking.

"Delia!"

Both nurses broke into a run.

"My God! What's happened?!"

The bus driver helped Patsy to loop her arm around Delia's waist so that she could hold her upright.

"She got on the bus in one hell of a state: all pale and shivering, and barely able to keep her eyes open. I know that she gets off here, but when I looked around, I could see that she wasn't going to be able to get off herself,"

Delia's skin had faded to an alarming grey colour, and she began to sway back and forth until Trixie leapt in to hold her other arm.

"We'll get her inside immediately," Patsy assured the driver, "Thank you so much for taking care of her,"

"Ain't a problem, nurse," he said sincerely, "But I'd call a doctor. Sharpish,"


	17. Chapter 17

_**I just wanted to start by saying how deeply saddened and distressed I am by the recent shootings in Orlando, USA. Such an attack on the LGBT community, and society as a whole, is incredibly upsetting, and I hope that you will join me in sending support and condolences to those affected.  
As always, I hope that you enjoy this chapter, and, as always, every single review is received with enormous appreciation.**_

Delia was a dead weight in the arms of Trixie and Patsy. Her eyes were unfocused and she seemed to be almost unable to keep them open in the sunlight. When they finally managed to get her inside, the moment that the door shut behind them, Delia pitched forward and vomited onto the floor.

"Call for Doctor Turner!"

Trixie shot off down to the telephone just as Sister Mary Cynthia walked inside. The minute that she saw Delia, her eyes widened in shock and she dropped her bag to run over.

"Please help," Patsy sobbed, "I don't know what's wrong with her,"

"We'll take her upstairs, Patsy, and lie her down. She's going to be alright, don't you worry,"

But the stairs presented an impossible challenge. Trying to lift Delia was difficult enough, but she was beginning to squirm and whine in discomfort, making it hard to even hold her.

"Sister, go and get Fred. He's out in the garden, or at least, he was. Tell him that we need help,"

Cynthia hurried out leaving Patsy alone. She sat on the bottom step, cradling Delia, murmuring soft words of love and encouragement to her through her tears. Encounters with illness was something that she experienced on a regular basis, but it felt so different and so much more frightening when it was somebody that she loved. When the nun returned with Fred, the handyman scooped Delia up and carried her carefully up to her room.

The bedroom was uncommonly untidy for Delia. It was clear that the young nurse had left in a rush that morning. Patsy was reminded of Delia's confusion and disarray that morning and felt anger towards herself for not properly noticing the signs.

Fred left just as Trixie came back in.

"Doctor Turner is on his way,"

Trying to drive the terrible worries and anxiety from her head, Patsy busied herself tucking the blankets around Delia to make her more comfortable. The shaking and writhing had subsided a little, but she still flinched when Patsy brushed against her. Her hands were cold and clammy, yet her forehead was burning with heat.

"She's got a fever," Trixie noted, resting her palm on Delia's head.

"Do you know how long she's been like this?" Cynthia asked.

Patsy did not make any attempt to an answer, so Trixie replied for her.

"She was in a bit of a state this morning, but not enough to raise any concern. It was just general forgetfulness and fatigue. The sickness must have developed throughout the day,"

"I should've seen that she wasn't herself," Patsy mumbled, "It's my fault,"

"Don't be absurd," Trixie snapped, "You weren't to know that anything was wrong, and neither were any of us. This isn't anybody's fault, Patsy,"

A knock at the door prevented Patsy from responding. Doctor Turner made his way over to the bed, depositing his waistcoat on the chair in the corner as he did so. Trixie reeled off the list of symptoms that she had seen, and the doctor ran his routine checks with great speed and efficiency. Patsy felt a strange surge of jealousy as he felt her glands and took her pulse. Seeing another's hands touching Delia made a feeling of protectiveness rush through her veins, and she had to look away to suppress the urge to push him away from her.

"And you say that she was shaking, Nurse Franklin?"

"That's right,"

Doctor Turner pulled his top button open and loosened his tie. The room was becomingly increasingly warm with the five people squeezed into the small area. Running his finger beneath his collar to pull it away from his neck, he indicated towards the window.

"Can we get that open please, Sister?"

Cynthia obliged him, and pulled the curtains back to haul the sash window open. The second that the beams of light entered the room, Delia moaned and kicked until Cynthia quickly whipped them shut again.

"Well, I think that supports my diagnosis," Doctor Turner said, more to himself than anybody else.

"What is it?" Trixie asked him, "What's the matter with her?"

"I believe the Nurse Busby has contracted viral meningitis," he explained grimly, "But it would also appear that the inflammation of the tissue covering her brain has triggered several seizures, which, although they were relatively minor, would explain the convulsions and inability to stand without support,"

"They're from her accident," Patsy groaned, "Her brain injury,"

Doctor Turner nodded sombrely, "The effects of a traumatic head injury usually last a lifetime,"

"Can anything be done?"

The doctor rubbed his knuckles along his jaw thoughtfully.

"The usual recovery time for this strain of meningitis is about seven days rest at home, but with her in this sort of condition, I'd recommend at least ten, if not more. And she'll need to be cared for as well, because overexerting herself could lead to the triggering of further seizures,"

"I'll do it,"

Patsy knew that she had spoken far too quickly and hopefully to avoid suspicion, but she was past caring. If anybody was going to nurse Delia back to health, then it would be her. She was not going to take no for an answer.

To her relief Doctor Turner smiled in approval.

"Yes, that seems like a perfectly suitable setup, Nurse Mount. I'll inform Sister Julienne that I have prescribed the bed rest and care, so I am certain that she won't object to you being relieved from your duties for a week,"

"Thank you, doctor,"

"But if her temperature is to rise even fractionally, or any aspect of her condition worsens, ring for an ambulance at once,"

On that, he departed the room. Trixie collapsed into the chair and sighed.

"Thank God," she muttered, "Thank God,"

Patsy scrambled around to try and find a pack of cigarettes, but when she did manage to take one out, her hands were trembling so badly that she could not light it.

"Here," Trixie stopped her and took the matchbox, "Let me do it,"

Cynthia eyed the lit cigarette, and licked her lips, trying to mask her dislike of the stench of tobacco.

"I think that I'll put the kettle on," she said.

"I'll come with you," Trixie responded, feeling suddenly that it might be a good idea to give Patsy some time by herself with Delia.

There was nothing that she could say or do that would ease Patsy's upset, and she knew that seeing Delia lying out in bed like that would bring back difficult and traumatic memories from her accident. Patsy, she understood, did not like to cope with situations like this by talking things through. It was in times such as these that the other nurse would need to be given some space to process her emotions by herself.

"Give us a shout if you need anything, Patsy. We'll just be downstairs,"

As they walked down the corridor, Sister Mary Cynthia glanced over at her blonde friend.

"One of Patsy's nightshirts was on the floor of Delia's room," she noted.

"Is that supposed to be significant?" Trixie asked coolly.

"Of course not," the nun said quietly, "It was just something that I observed,"

Trixie gently caught her hand and pulled her to a standstill.

"Whatever we observe, it's not for us to make any assumptions about the meaning,"

Cynthia placed her hand over that of her friend and squeezed it reassuringly.

"I never would, Trixie, believe me when I say that,"

"I know that you wouldn't… I just thought I should say because…"

"Because you care," Cynthia finished, "And Patsy and Delia are blessed indeed to have you as their guardian angel,"

"I'm not sure that I'd go as far to say that, but I am determined to be here for them,"

"And so you shall be,"

 _ **Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.**_  
 _ **Love never ends. As for prophecies, they will pass away; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when the perfect comes, the partial will pass away.**_ _**1 Corinthians 13**_


	18. Chapter 18

_**I would blame the slightly slow update on my exams, but in truth I rewrote this chapter several times and it took me a while to decide on which version I was going to publish. This is the one that I went with! Hopefully you will approve of my choice.  
Thank you for all of the reviews, reading them is always such a joy, and I always love to hear what you think. **_

She could not recall for how long she had been asleep, nor, for that matter, when she had actually drifted off at all. For a moment, Patsy stared around in confusion, squinting in the dim light, trying to ascertain where she had woken up. The sound of frantic coughing came as a quick and distressing reminder.

As her eyes accustomed to the darkness, she saw Delia on her side, her shoulders heaving as she urged. Immediately the fog of sleep cleared, and Patsy stumbled to her feet, hunting desperately for a basin of some sorts. When she had found one, she held Delia's dark hair behind her and rubbed her back comfortingly, soothing her until the uncontrollable retching had ceased.

"Shh, darling, I'm here now,"

Delia's body went limp, and the arm that had been holding her up gave way, so that she collapsed back down onto the mattress, her head lolling over the edge of the bed. She looked so weak and pathetic, and it broke Patsy's heart; Her girlfriend was so feisty and strong, yet here she was looking so pitifully fragile. It took some doing, but Patsy finally managed to coax Delia back up onto her pillows, so that her head was supported.

Thankfully, the Welsh nurse had been able to lean over the edge of her covers, so her bed linen remained pristine and untouched. The floor, however, had not been so lucky. Patsy fetched a bucket and sponge and cleaned the mess from the wooden floorboards thoroughly, before filling a glass of water and gently encouraging Delia to drink a little.

"I know it's ghastly, but we can't have you becoming dehydrated, Deels,"

Delia feebly pushed the outstretched glass away and murmured incoherently, turning her head away. Patsy pulled her chair up to the side of the bed and sat back in it, sighing. The glass was placed down dejectedly on the nightstand.

"What am I going to do with you Deels, hey?" she muttered, stroking her hand softly through the dark tresses.

An incomprehensible groan was the only reply that she was given.

Filling a small dish with cold water, Patsy took a flannel and soaked it, before gently dabbing the cool, damp cloth across Delia's fevered brow, trying to ease some of her discomfort. Initially, she squirmed against it, but soon began to settle down and, to Patsy's great relief, appeared to finally doze off peacefully.

Patsy sat up for the rest of the night, devoting every waking minute to Delia. The room around her soon grew light, and her eyelids felt heavy, but she refused to leave her side. Her back ached and her neck was stiff from sitting in the same position for hours on end. By the time Sister Mary Cynthia came in to offer her a tray of breakfast, Patsy was dead to the world, her head nestled on her folded arms on the edge of Delia's bed.

"Oh, Patsy,"

Cynthia was utterly moved by Patsy's unwavering dedication to Delia. It made her heart glad to see such affection. She had wondered briefly if the two were involved, but had pushed the thought from her mind, not wanting to intrude into either of their private lives. Love, after all, was love, and who was she to question it, simply because it came in a form that was different from that that she would expect?

Careful not to disturb them, she closed the door softly and left to attend to her duties.

Delia's recovery was slow in the beginning. For the first three or four days, she spent all of her time sleeping, and rarely woke. The nausea seemed to fade gradually, and her fever eased. There had been a terrible moment on the third night when she had been gripped by yet more seizures, and Patsy, who was not the religious type, had been only able to kneel at the foot of her bed and pray that they would stop.

What affected Patsy most was the loneliness. She was used to her own company; before Delia it was virtually all that she had ever known, but she longed to be able to hear Delia tease her with some quick-witted remark in her beautiful Welsh lilt. The house seemed achingly quiet without her gorgeous laugh, and she missed listening to Delia's hysterical anecdotes from the male surgical ward at dinner. She resolved to eat her supper in Delia's room, unable to bear sitting at the table without her.

Trixie became increasingly concerned by Patsy's absence, and saw that the redhead was looking drawn and exhausted. Even her vibrant curls seemed to have dimmed.

"Patsy, I'm certain that somebody else could look after Delia tomorrow. You're almost looking as ill as she does, and I'm worried about you,"

"No, Trixie, it's out of the question. I said that I would take care of her, so I'll be the one to take care of her,"

Trixie was ready to wring her hands in frustration.

"Nobody is accusing you of being unable to care for her. Good God, Patsy, even if you walked to the bike shed and back I'd see that as a victory. I don't think you've seen sunlight in four days! Please… just see reason," Trixie implored her.

Without warning, Patsy suddenly dropped to the floor, one hand clamped over her mouth to try and muffle the sound of her cries. Hot tears spilled across her cheeks and she shook her head.

"I _can't_ Trixie, don't you see? _I can't leave her_ ,"

It was only then that the blonde nurse fully appreciated how horrendous losing Delia after the accident had been for Patsy. She stood frozen, watching her usually unshakeable friend fall apart on the ground in front of her, not knowing what to say or do.

" _She is everything to me, and I am nothing without her_ ,"

"I know, Patsy. I know,"

When Trixie returned to the room later, she saw that Patsy had curled up on the bed in the small space beside Delia. Both were asleep, and they were holding hands, their fingers tightly intertwined. It made Trixie momentarily mourn the lack of a companion in her own life, but she did not allow the thought to dwell.

It was on the fifth day that Delia began to sit up a little more, and engage a bit in conversation. She tired quickly, and could become easily confused, so Patsy read to her. The texts were obscure, mainly borrowed from Sister Monica Joan, but the simply act of speaking the words of another aloud was strangely therapeutic.

On day seven, in the second chapter of a particularly dreary novel, a voice interrupted Patsy's reading.

"Oh, do stop with that dreadful nonsense, Pats. I think I'd prefer to listen to a Nurse Crane Spanish recital than I would another word of that,"

Delia Busby was back.

"Delia!"

"Hello, Pats,"

Two words had never sounded so heavenly.

"How…" Patsy felt herself choking up and swallowed roughly, "How're you feeling?"

Delia tried to sit up and grimaced at her pounding head and the twinge in her muscles. For a second her stomach churned and she gagged at the burning taste of bile in the back of her throat.

"Here, let me help you,"

Patsy wrapped her arms around Delia's waist, which she could feel had become noticeably thinner, and helped her up. There was an unmistakable rush within her as she felt Delia pressed against her for the first time in a week. It was apparent that Delia felt it too, and she leant her head into Patsy's shoulder, giving a low moan.

"So," Patsy reluctantly pulled away, knowing that she might lose control if she lingered any longer, "You don't like my reading?"

"On the contrary," Delia smiled, "I like your reading very much. It's _what_ you're reading that I take issue with,"

"Well, maybe I can solve that,"

"Trixie!"

The blonde nurse's head poked around the edge of the door and she gave Delia a wave.

"Somebody's looking better!"

"I feel it too," Delia replied cheerfully.

"Well, then I'm sorry to be the bringer of bad news,"

"What do you mean?"

Trixie held up an envelope before throwing it down onto the bed.

"Don't ask me how, because I don't know, but your mother has got wind of your illness. According to this she's taking one of the first trains from Pembrokeshire that she can. She hopes to be here by Tuesday,"

"That's two days from now," Patsy groaned, "No offence, Deels, but a visit from your mother is the last thing we need,"

"You don't say," Delia grumbled, "I appreciate that she worries about me, but I can't stand it when she fusses over me; it makes me feel like a child,"

"I can't claim to know your mother very well at all, Delia, but from reading the letter, I got the feeling that your mother isn't the type of woman to be argued with,"

"As usual, Trixie, your judge of character is superb,"

"I thought as much," Trixie chuckled, "Anyway, I'll leave you to it now. Hopefully see you up and about soon?"

"You may rely upon it,"

When the door shut behind Trixie, Delia flung the covers back and swung her legs around.

"Right, that settles it,"

"Delia, you can't!"

"Yes, I can. If my mother arrives here to find me sickly and bedbound, she may well insist that I return to Pembrokeshire with her, and then where does that leave us?"

The Welsh nurse stood up, but her legs could not, despite her determination, keep her upright, and she fell into Patsy. Immediately she fought against her, pushing at her chest and trying to break free from the strong arms encircling her.

"Get off me, let me go!"

"Delia, for God's sake!"

Delia's struggling was no match for Patsy, and she managed to wrestle her back into bed. They sat opposite each other, panting. Patsy's cheek were flushed, and her jaw muscles became starkly defined as she clenched her teeth together, trying to contain an outburst of anger.

"Pats, I'm sorry…"

"Save it, Delia,"

And Patsy left the room.


	19. Chapter 19

_**Please be aware that this chapter contains adult themes. Thank you so much for following this story, and I absolutely love to read reviews, so a huge thank you to everybody who has taken the time to comment. It means the world! Enjoy!**_

Delia was stunned by Patsy's sudden exit. The redhead had marched from the room, eyes red-rimmed and watery. The loss of her presence in the room created a tangible hole, and the silence that she left was suffocating. Lifting her hands to her temple, Delia tried to massage away the pain inside her head, but the new quiet seemed to make the ache intensify.

"Delia?"

For a fleeting instant, Delia thought it was Patsy, and her heart leapt, but when the knock and call came again, she realised that it was Trixie. It took her a while to engage her brain and answer.

"Yes?"

"Do you mind if I come in?"

"No, of course not,"

The door shut behind her and Trixie dragged the chair over to Delia's bedside.

"I'm sorry, I heard raised voices and then Patsy stormed into my room. She won't speak to me, so I hoped that you would,"

"We had a bit of a fight,"

"You did?"

Delia nodded, picking at a loose thread on her quilt cover.

"Do you mind if I ask why?"

"It all happened a bit fast. I tried to get out of bed, because if my mother arrives to find me unable to look after myself, she might drag me back to Wales, and then I fell, and Patsy caught me, and… I tried to push her off me. She virtually wrestled me back into bed,"

"I see,"

Delia groaned and leant her head back against the wall.

"It's my fault, isn't it?"

Trixie gave an apologetic smile.

"It does sound like Patsy was just trying to help you,"

Delia nodded, "I know. I was just upset and tired, and frustrated at being stuck in here,"

"I don't want to make you feel guilty, or patronise you, Delia," Trixie began, "But Patsy hasn't left your side since you got sick. She's barely left this room herself, and she hasn't really slept either. She worries enormously about you, but I don't think that she wants to say so because she knows that you hate to be fussed over. The fact is that she loves you more than anything, and she cares about you far too much to let you go,"

Delia paused as the what Trixie was saying sunk in.

"I understand that. Thank you, Trixie,"

"Don't thank me. Thank Patsy. She's having a much-needed sleep at the moment, but when she's woken up, I'll send her in to see you,"

"Please do,"

Trixie's word resonated within Delia. The guilt felt awful, but her utter adoration for Patsy seemed to explode within her heart. She had not realised quite how attentive Patsy had been throughout the last week. In truth, her memory of the past few days was hazy, but when she thought closely about it, she could recall a constant companion in the room with her.

" _Patsy_ ,"

Now Patsy's bloodshot eyes and trembling lip made sense. Delia could not believe that she had not realised earlier.

Night fell quickly, and Delia, who had been absorbed in her thoughts, stared around, newly aware that she was now sat in darkness. She turned on the bedside lamp, and it cast a warm glow around the cosy room. Gritting her teeth, Delia managed to make her way over to the little mirror on the chest of drawers. Grabbing her brush, she combed her brown hair, working out the tangles and leaving it sleek and shiny. Her cheeks were pale, and she pinched them lightly, bringing back some of their natural colour.

The sound of knuckles tapping against the door interrupted her, and she turned around. Her girlfriend was leant against the doorframe, her hands in the pockets of her slacks.

"I would ask you if you should really be out of bed," Patsy said, staring resolutely at the ground, "But I won't"

Delia sat back onto her chest of drawers, "No, I want you to,"

The blue eyes flicked up to survey her; the expression was cynical.

"Excuse me if I'm not in the mood for games tonight,"

"I'm not playing games with you, Pats. I want to apologise. The way you have been looking after me since I became ill is above and beyond the call of duty. I can't express in words how grateful I am to you, or how sorry I am for not recognising it earlier,"

Patsy's stare softened and it was clear that she was smiling, even with the lack of light.

"I just want the best for you Delia,"

Delia stepped towards her and looked up at her, the brightness that the meningitis had sapped from her eyes now shining through again.

"Patience Mount, you are the best thing for me… And I want to prove it to you. I said that I can't express it in words… but I can express it in something else…"

Delia's right hand cupped Patsy's cheek and her left hand rested on her hip… and she could not resist any longer.

Patsy pulled her in, pressing her lips against Delia's, feeling their delightful softness. Her fingers wound into her hair, bringing her closer still. The muscles inside of Delia's stomach clenched with excitement, for this side of Patsy could never cease to intrigue or amaze her. She became aware that her nightie was beginning to ride up her thighs, and she felt Patsy's fingertips tracing over her legs, leaving paths of tingling nerves in their wake.

An audible gasp escaped her when Patsy's mouth began to work its wonders along her neck, and her knees almost gave way when her tongue flicked across the sensitive skin of her collarbone. Her head was spinning, and her eyes flew open as Patsy suddenly moved away, one hand holding Delia at arm's length.

"Don't _stop_ ,"

"Delia, you've only just been able to leave your bed. We shouldn't be doing _this_ now. It can wait,"

The Welshwoman pouted, knowing full well that it was an expression that Patsy found particularly alluring.

"I can't,"

"Well, you're going to have to. It's Nurse Mount's orders," she smirked.

"Patsy, don't do this, please,"

The redhead felt herself being scorched by Delia's beseeching gaze and sighed.

"You've been very ill…"

"… and I'll be even more so if you neglect me now. I know that you want this, Patsy, and I do too,"

Delia grasped Patsy's wrist and she guided her hand downwards. Soon the evidence of her want coated the redhead's fingers.

"You see?"

Patsy could not speak, but she took a gulp of air and nodded.

"So… what do you say?"

Catching her lip between her teeth, Patsy gently flexed her fingers against her, watching Delia's breath catch in her throat, and her pupils dilate. Her beloved's whole body was quivering with need.

"Delia Busby, _shouldn't you be in bed_?"

Patsy's voice was husky with lust, and her irises glinted with humour.

Delia's hand seized Patsy's shirt and pulled her forward until the back of her thighs hit the mattress. The look on her face could only be described as salacious, and Patsy was deeply entranced.

" _Only if I've got company_ ,"

Patsy cocked her eyebrow, and lowered Delia down onto the covers so that she was stretched out below her.

"Oh _really_?"

Delia's legs lifted up to wrap around Patsy's hips. Even through their clothing, the extraordinary pulsing heat emanating from the apex of Delia's thighs was warming Patsy's lower stomach.

" _Really_ ,"

"Well then," Patsy smiled, clicking the bedside lamp off beside her, "I suppose that settles it,"


	20. Chapter 20

_**To celebrate making it to the 20th chapter, this is a nice and long one! It was fun to write, and so I very much hope that you enjoy it equally as much. Thank you ever so much for the reviews so far, they are so wonderful to read and I appreciate every one.**_

"Delia, we're going to be late,"

There was a muffled shout from upstairs and Patsy could not help but grin at the thought of Delia charging haphazardly around her room, trying to be as quick as she could.

"Are you off somewhere?"

Barbara emerged from the kitchen, medical bag in hand, ready to set off for work.

"Lunch with Delia's mother," Patsy replied, grimacing a little.

Barbara pulled a face, "Jolly good luck then,"

There was a bang and Delia came careering down the stairs, skidding to a halt between the two other nurses. She held out her arms and looked urgently at them both.

"Do I look alright?"

The blue dress hugged her curves beautifully and wonderfully complimented the exquisite colour of her eyes. Patsy resisted the urge to make some wildly inappropriate comment and just smiled at her. Barbara nodded enthusiastically.

"You look fantastic, Delia," she beamed.

"Right. Good. We're not terribly late are we, Pats?"

Checking her wristwatch, Patsy shook her head.

"We should be fine,"

"Shall we go then?"

"Take an umbrella," Barbara added, as she headed for the door with them, "It's supposed to rain later,"

The walk to the restaurant was pleasant enough, and Delia was pleased to be out in the fresh air again. The restaurant itself was a little place, happily situated on a smart road, surrounded by the exciting London hustle and bustle.

They reached their table, and were both relieved to see that Delia's mother had not yet found her way there. It was quiet inside, with only a few other couples dining. For a brief second, Patsy felt relaxed, as if she and Delia were like any other couple in there; two people in love out to spend the day together.

A sharp intake of breath brought her back to her senses, and she saw Delia's mother edging down the steps towards them.

"It's good to see you, Mrs Busby," she said, extending her arm in a friendly greeting.

Her outstretched hand was ignored and Delia's mother stared around disdainfully.

"I don't much approve of this place, Delia," she commented, "Far too modern, if you ask me. Very tasteless,"

Delia just flushed and shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

"And what are you wearing? It really won't do. Did your father and I really fail to teach you anything about modesty?"

"I think that she looks gorgeous," Patsy said defensively.

"Oh, you would, wouldn't you?" Mrs Busby muttered acidly.

Patsy chose to ignore this, and signalled for the waiter to come over to them. While Mrs Busby remonstrated angrily with him about the apparent lack of sensible British food on the menu, Delia leant over to Patsy.

"I thought you said that I looked alright!" she hissed.

"And I meant it! I didn't realise quite how conservative your mother is,"

"This is my mother we're talking about! She was hardly going to be an enlightened liberal, was she?"

They both clamped their mouths shut when Mrs Busby fixed them with a suspicious stare.

"Are you ready to order?"

Patsy placed her request first, and Delia followed after, but Mrs Busby predictably intervened before she had finished speaking.

"I wouldn't have that, cariad. I'm not sure that I trust the sound of pasta,"

Delia did not acknowledge her mother's recommendation, but Patsy saw a tinge of pink creep into her cheeks as the waiter walked away.

"So then. What's this I hear about you being ill then, Delia? Meningitis, was it?"

"Yes, mam,"

"It's no wonder," she said, staring with contempt out of the window, "This filthy London air could kill an army,"

"Meningitis is not caused by pollution, mam,"

Mrs Busby appeared briefly peeved at being corrected, but gathered her composure quickly.

"A little girl in my village died of it when I was young," she said haughtily, "Very nasty business. Huge rash all over her body, right from head to toe,"

Delia gritted her teeth in agitation, and her knuckles turned white as she clenched her fist.

"For starters, mam, that was a different type of meningitis. It's much more severe than the viral version that I had. And secondly, that was in 1923. Medicine has progressed since then,"

"You still could have died, cariad,"

"Patsy was looking after me. I was in safe hands,"

Mrs Busby sniffed, eyes sweeping condescendingly over the redheaded nurse.

"You should have had a doctor,"

"I'm as capable as most doctors, Mrs Busby," Patsy said, her gaze defiant.

"No," Delia declared, "She's better. And I don't want a doctor, mam. I want her,"

The bold statement clearly shook Delia's mother, and she was grateful to see the waiter approach with their food. It provided a good excuse to abandon that particular conversation topic for the time being. Patsy looked a little nervously at Delia. The brunette nurse, whilst on the mend, had not yet managed to stomach a full meal yet, and she wondered if she would be alright.

Almost ten minutes of silence passed by, with only Mrs Busby airing the occasional view about the toughness of the meat or the temperature of the gravy. Delia was pushing more food around her plate than she was consuming, although Patsy could no longer tell if her lack of appetite stemmed from her illness or being under the intense scrutiny of her mother.

Eventually the quiet became too much.

"So!" Patsy began brightly, her broad smile swiftly faltering when she realised that she had nothing to follow up with.

"I've looked more into the possibility of becoming a midwife," Delia said, bravely attempting a cheerful tone.

"You're not still on about that, are you, cariad? Tell me that you don't really aspire to spend your days crawling around every slum, tenement and poor house in London, delivering babies in dingy backrooms, surrounded by God only knows what sort of people. I'm not ignorant you know. I am fully aware of what sort of unmentionable practices go on in London,"

"Mam, you're jumping to conclusions,"

"Delia's right, Mrs Busby. I am in the opinion that midwifery is one of the most rewarding jobs around, and also that your daughter would make one of the most accomplished midwives possible,"

Delia's mother shook her head scornfully and dropped her fork down onto her plate.

"This lamb has not been cooked long enough. It should be more tender than this,"

Rolling her eyes, Delia leant her head in her hand, her patience wearing thin.

"Don't look so insolent, Delia! And get your elbow off the table. Look, I've said this more than enough times, and I'll say it again. I am not happy about you working in London. I am not happy about your career choice. You are blessed that I am a reasonable and generous woman and have allowed for you to indulge in these foolish ventures when you have so wished,"

Delia gave a snort of derision and shook her head in disbelief.

"But you're not a girl anymore. You need to start acting like an adult woman. You need to start seeing sense; London is not the place for decent young ladies. It's made you ill, and I can already see that your temperament is becoming increasingly unseemly, no doubt influenced by the new and unsuitable company that you are keeping,"

"I'm not ill, mam,"

"You treat me as if I have the brains of a child! You've barely touched your food, cariad, and you look unattractively thin too. Do you think I was born yesterday?"

There was no chance to answer. The clouds opened, and the rain that Barbara had predicted earlier began to pound against the windows. People walking past outside broke into a run, briefcases and handbags being held up to act as temporary shelters from the water.

"It was sunny in Pembrokeshire when I left," Mrs Busby remarked irritably.

"It was sunny in Poplar before you arrived," Delia muttered.

If Delia's mother had heard her daughter speak, she did not show it. Her expression remained as coldly indifferent as ever. Patsy was beginning to feel that she should not have come, and busied herself with re-reading the entire menu, just to give her something else to focus on. For a while it worked, but when she reached the end of the wine list, she was forced to re-join the conversation.

"I'm not returning to Wales with you, mam, and that's final," Delia said flatly, "I like it here, I have friends here and my work is here. I'm sorry, but that's all there is to it,"

The waiter returned, his feet dragging a little, showing his reluctance to approach the table. Mrs Busby dismissed him with an angry flick of the wrist.

"You're not the daughter that I thought I had,"

"No," Delia agreed, "I'm not. But I am your daughter nonetheless, and you are my mother, and I am asking for your support in the decisions that I am making,"

There was a fleeting point when the hard line of Mrs Busby's mouth twitched, as if Delia had somehow managed to break through the icy façade, but it did not last. The older woman shook her head.

"I'm not sure that I can do that, cariad,"

"Fine," Delia said, "That's alright, because what you said earlier is true. I am a grown woman, and, as much as I would like to have it, I don't need your blessing to continue leading my life in the way that I wish,"

"And that's it?"

"Yes," Delia said, reaching forward to briefly clasp her hand before standing up, "That's it. Goodbye, mam. Take care,"

She leant over to place a kiss on her mother's cheek, and then put the money for the bill on the table.

"Lunch is on me, mam. Have a safe journey,"

The two nurses left the restaurant, walking out onto the street into the rain. Once they were out there, Delia pushed her hands through her hair, the water droplets running down her arms and saturating her dress.

"Deels, I'm so sorry…"

"Oh, Pats, it's not your fault," Delia smiled sadly, her wet hair clinging to her forehead, "The fact of the matter is that unless my mam realises that I am no longer a child, or unless I sustain a head injury serious enough to actually trap me at home, she'll never be happy. I can't give her what she wants, and that's something that we're both going to have to learn to live with,"

"Even so, I wish that it didn't have to be like that,"

"So do I, Pats, but we can't have everything. And she's not my priority at the moment. You are. Come on, let's head back to Nonnatus,"

Patsy glanced across the street, and through the rain, she saw a bus. An idea sparked in her mind.

"No," she said, grabbing Delia's hand and hurrying off to get on board, "There's somewhere else that we need to go first,"

She paid the conductor quickly and they sat down. Their seats and floor around their feet was soaked. Delia tugged at Patsy's sleeve, her face a mixture of curiosity and mild amusement.

"Where are we going?"

The redhead just chuckled, "You'll see. Just sit tight, we'll be there soon,"

It took a while, but eventually Patsy gave Delia a nudge and they both alighted. After a short walk, the Welsh nurse stared around her in amazement, her mouth falling open.

"Patsy… this is Bond Street,"

"Oh good," Patsy grinned, "We did get on the right bus then,"

She set off down the road, disappearing into a mass of people, and Delia rushed after her, trying to keep up through the crowds. From a distance, she saw that Patsy had turned off into one of the shops and she ducked inside, not stopping to read the shopfront sign emblazoned with the words 'Bentley and Skinner'. Once she was in, she stared around her, searching desperately for the redhead. Suddenly she felt a tap on the back, and she spun around. Patsy was leant over a glass display case.

"There," she said, "What do you think of that one?"

Delia gave her a blank look of confusion, before following Patsy's finger and peering down into the case. Inside, sat in the centre, was a stunning gold ring, with a single blue sapphire set into the top, and delicate claws holding it in place. When the light caught the precious stone, it seemed to shimmer, as if a real ocean was trapped within it. She blinked, a lump rising rapidly in her throat.

"For me?"

"Yes, for you… if you'd like it,"

"It's beautiful,"

"Good. I thought so too,"

She conversed quietly with the smartly dressed shop attendant behind the case, and the ring was purchased. Delia watched the whole proceedings in a daydream state, unable to believe that it was really happening. When they finally left the shop, the brunette turned round to look at Patsy, her eyes brimming with emotion. Other people surrounded them, absorbed in their own thoughts, their eyes to the ground, or on one another, and it was just as Delia had always said; they were in a crowd, and they were invisible. Nobody stopped to notice the two women embracing one another tightly in the middle of the street.

"Thank you," Delia whispered, her arms holding her beloved as close to her as she could.

Patsy pulled back and carefully slipped the exquisite ring onto Delia's finger.

"There," she smiled in satisfaction, "Now it's official,"

"Patience Mount, I am so in love with you,"

Patsy cocked her head to the left, "Is it just my excellent taste in jewellery?"

Delia laughed but shook her head.

"No," she said, "It's so much more than that,"


	21. Chapter 21

_**Thank you again for all of the wonderful reviews. Every piece of feedback is read and appreciated massively.**_

The unwelcome shriek of the alarm clock broke the peace of slumber, and Trixie responded by seizing it and hurling it across the room. It hit the wall with a thud and dropped to the floor, the unmistakable crack of broken glass sounding as the front shattered on impact.

"Trixie," Patsy mumbled.

"Mmph,"

"I think we're going to need a new alarm clock,"

The blonde nurse gave a snort of derision.

"Like hell we are,"

Patsy gave a laugh as she threw the covers off herself and swept the fragments up. When every little shard was safely removed, she walked over to Trixie's bed and whipped away her duvet.

"Get up," she said, holding the bedding just out reach of Trixie's flailing hands, "It's clinic today, and Nurse Crane will skin us alive if we're late again,"

"I'll take being skinned alive if it buys me five more minutes in bed, thanks," Trixie retorted.

Despite her protests, Trixie was down in the kitchen on time with everybody else, and sat moodily eating her breakfast at the end of the table. She was not the only resident of Nonnatus House to look out of sorts either. Barbara almost nodded off into her food, and Sister Mary Cynthia's eyelids were beginning to droop. Patsy was actually shocked to see just how exhausted her colleagues seemed.

"My, my, everybody does seem quiet this morning!"

Nurse Crane set her rolodex down with a clunk, which startled the sleepy Barbara to such an extent that she shoved her elbow down into her baked beans. Trixie jolted awake, and Cynthia blinked furiously, trying to clear the sleep from her eyes.

"What on earth is the matter?"

Sister Julienne glanced around at the table, "Can anybody explain?"

"I guess that we've all been busy recently," Trixie shrugged, stifling a yawn, "What with Patsy being off duty, and seemingly more patients and expectant mothers than ever to attend to before calling us out left right and centre,"

"It's true," Sister Winifred piped up, "We've been having far more callouts than normal. Our services are stretched to a maximum,"

"I'm returning to work today," Patsy assured her.

"And I can help with mundane tasks about the house," Delia added, "I'm not allowed back onto the ward for another two days, so I'm all yours until then,"

"Thank you, Nurse Busby, that would be very much appreciated,"

The breakfast table was cleared and those working at the clinic left for work.

Outside of the community centre, the queue of mothers-to-be extended far down the road, and tiny toddlers and children were running round and round the mass of people. When the doors were opened and everybody streamed inside, the atmosphere quickly became stifling. The Bunsen burners being used to boil urine added to the disgusting stench in the hall, and there was scarcely enough room for the nurses to move.

"This is the worst I've ever seen it," Trixie complained, "I can't breathe,"

"There are expectant mothers with nowhere to sit down," Shelagh noted, "And they're beginning to make a scene,"

She was right. One woman, slightly shorter than the rest, but with an expression filled with such force that it hardly mattered, came marching over, hands placed firmly on hips. Her lower jaw jutted out as she angrily surveyed the midwives.

"What do you call this then?" she demanded, "I've been here almost a whole bloody hour and no one has even got my name down. It's disgraceful. I'm due in just over three weeks; I should be front of the queue!"

Trixie opened her mouth, ready to retaliate, but Patsy interrupted her. She knew exactly what the blonde firecracker was like; Trixie did not take prisoners.

"I am very sorry for the delay, Mrs...?"

"Marlow. It's Mrs Marlow,"

"We are trying to get through our patients as quickly as we can, Mrs Marlow, and I am certain that we can arrange for a midwife to see you just as soon as possible,"

"Not like that will be good enough for you," Trixie grumbled under her breath.

"Here, look," Patsy said, raising her voice to drown out Trixie's venomous whispers, "Nurse Gilbert is available, I'm sure she'd be happy to perform your examination,"

"I wouldn't bet on it," Trixie sneered, sauntering off again.

Patsy gave a sigh of frustration and marched off to her own cubicle. Her uniform was sticking to her with sweat, and the collar felt uncomfortably tight. She tugged at it, and fanned herself with her clipboard, hoping that it would provide just a little relief from the sweltering conditions. The heat intensified the smell, which was a revolting mixture of perspiration, faeces, urine, and various other bodily fluids, and she felt sick and very unwell.

Excusing herself for a moment, she hurried to the sinks and splashed cold water onto her face. It cooled her skin and helped her to feel a little cleaner.

"Nurse Mount,"

Shelagh's Scottish lilt sent Patsy springing to attention and she whirled around, water dripping from her chin and nose.

"Yes… hello,"

The corners of Shelagh's mouth twitched, indicating amusement, but she was far too professional to openly show it.

"We've run out of various supplies: cotton buds, tongue depressors and the like. Would you be able to use the telephone to call Nonnatus House and ask for somebody to bring some more stock? I've got the list here,"

Shelagh handed over a crumpled piece of paper with a hurriedly scribbled set of supplies written on it. Patsy squinted at the spidery lettering.

"I can't make out half of this, Mrs Turner,"

There was a shout from behind them as another frustrated expectant mother went on the rampage. Shelagh made to hurry away to try and restore peace.

"I'm sure that you'll make it out," she called.

The telephone was out in the corridor, and some thoughtful person had wedged the front door open, which had allowed a little fresh air to enter the building. It was quieter too, and Patsy dialled the numbers jubilantly, delighted to be away from the pandemonium within.

"Nonnatus House, nurse speaking,"

Patsy bit her lip, taking her time to rejoice in the sound of Delia's voice at the other end of the line. Even now, after all of this time, she felt a distinct fluttering in her stomach on just hearing her talk.

"Hello?"

"Delia,"

"Pats?"

"Hello, darling,"

"Tell me, what have I done to deserve a midday call from you?"

The redhead nurse could virtually hear Delia smirking into the handset.

"Are you pleased to hear from me then?"

"Always,"

"I am glad," she chuckled, "But I am also sorry, the real reason for me calling is actually to ask for more supplies,"

"How disappointing. Not a personal call then?" Delia teased.

"Afraid not. I've got a list here, have you got a pencil and paper handy? I need all of these things brought down to the clinic immediately. We are absolutely overrun, and we're swiftly running out of… well, everything really!"

Patsy read the list out, pausing occasionally to decipher the odd illegible word, and Delia obediently copied it all out.

"Have you got all of that?"

"Yes, I have. I'll get it all together and be on my way,"

"Thank you, Deels. You really are a life saver,"

There was a click, and the line went dead. Weighing the handset in her hand, Patsy geared herself up to return to the hall. The moment that she opened the door, it was like being hit with a huge, humid cloud. She almost choked, and cupped a hand over her nose and mouth to protect herself from the smell.

The best way to distract herself from the miasma was to throw herself into the work, and so she got busy at once. All the while that she was attending to various mothers-to-be, she could hear Mrs Marlow shouting abuse at Barbara. Some of it was very unfair, but other quotes coming from the fiery woman were deeply entertaining, and Patsy had to fight rising sniggers. It got even funnier when she could hear Barbara weakly trying to reason with her; it was comedy gold.

"Have you heard the commotion going on down there?" Trixie asked, sticking her head around the curtain.

Patsy nodded, "You'd have to be deaf in both ears and standing in the next street not to hear it,"

"Poor Babs," Trixie giggled, not looking in the least bit sorry at all, "Should I go down and rescue her?"

"Don't you dare!" Patsy warned her, "I know what you're like. Leave it to Nurse Crane, or Shelagh,"

No sooner had she said it, she heard Nurse Crane's voice ring out across the room, finally silencing Mrs Marlow.

"I've just _got_ to go and see this,"

Trixie ran off to go and make the most of the spectacle on offer. Patsy was determined not to be anywhere near it, and so wandered back out into the corridor to see if Delia had arrived. Even as she stepped out of the hall, Delia came in through the front entrance, arms laden with boxes.

"Are you sure you've got enough boxes there, Nurse Busby?"

Delia dumped them down onto the floor and strolled towards her girlfriend.

"Oh, do shut up, Patience,"

"Make me,"

"Ooh, maybe I will…"

Delia wrapped her arms around Patsy's neck and pulled her down towards her, their lips mere millimetres apart. Her sweet perfume enveloped Patsy, and she was captivated by the way her blue eyes twinkled as she came ever closer.

"You are _so_ _beautiful_ , Delia,"

The brunette was just about to reply when the door behind them was flung open, slamming against the wall, leaving a sizeable dent in the plaster. Mrs Marlow stormed out, arms in the air and ranting wildly. Patsy and Delia sprang apart, but the pregnant woman ground to a halt, her mouth moving, yet no words coming out. She pointed at them, jabbing a finger at the space where they had just been about to kiss, her eyes wide and unblinking. The door swung shut with a bang behind her.

"Mrs Marlow, it's not what it looks like…"

"You… you…"

"Mrs Marlow, I…"

The mother-to-be continued to violently gesticulate, when she suddenly grabbed her stomach and hunched over, giving a loud wail. There was a splash as a clear fluid splattered to the tiles beneath her.


	22. Chapter 22

_**I can only apologise for how long it has taken me to upload this chapter. Things have been a little hectic, so it has been written in little parts at a time. Although I have proof-read it, I am sorry if some sections sound a bit disjointed. I am aiming to update again shortly to make up for the lag! Thank you very much for reading.**_

Delia dashed forward to catch Mrs Marlow as she began to crumple, and gently lowered her to the floor.

"Patsy, go and tell Sister Julienne what has happened,"

Patsy blanched, "You want me to tell her _what_?"

"That we have a woman in labour,"

The redheaded nurse was trembling, and the shock of being caught in the corridor with Delia was causing her heart to thump wildly inside her chest. Her palms were damp, and she wiped them nervously on her dress.

"Patsy!"

Delia's patience was already wearing thin. She understood why Patsy was panicking, and she too felt an indescribable mixture of horror and fear swirling within her, but there was no time to dwell on that now. After all, out of the two of them, it was only Patsy who was a qualified midwife.

"Oh, for heaven's sake,"

Patsy was rooted to the spot, her face drained off all colour, and she was swaying slightly, her lips moving in a silent prayer. Delia stood up and seized her arms, pulling her over to where Mrs Marlow was lying.

"Listen to me, Pats," she said urgently, "Stay here, stay calm. I'm going to get help. Do you understand me?"

The other nurse's eyes darted around nervously, and she swallowed roughly.

"Do you understand me, Patsy?"

Finally, Delia was given a shaky nod. Satisfied, the Welsh nurse disappeared back into the main hall. She had intended to find Sister Julienne first, but seeing the state that Patsy was in meant that she instinctively searched for Trixie, their confidant, instead. She found her quickly; the blonde nurse was rifling through a stack of paperwork, unconsciously twirling a pencil between her thumb and forefinger.

"Trix,"

The trained eye of a nurse rarely misses anything, and Trixie sensed danger at once. The pencil in her hand stilled.

"What's happened?"

"Mrs Marlow has gone into labour,"

"She's premature,"

Delia gulped, "I know,"

Trixie looked about her somewhat conspiratorially before leaning in closer to Delia, her voice taking on an almost menacing tone.

"Why do I feel as though you are missing out some crucial detail, Delia?"

The brunette shook her head, her eyes pleading with Trixie to have some mercy, but the blonde nurse was having none of it.

"Where's Patsy?" she demanded.

"In the corridor with Mrs Marlow,"

"And you were in the corridor too?"

Delia blushed furiously as the realisation crept into Trixie's face.

" _No._ No, Delia, tell me you didn't. Tell me _she_ didn't…"

"We thought that we were completely alone! And then she came through the door just as we were about to…"

Trixie grabbed Delia's wrist and took off across the hall, her long nails leaving deep dents in the soft skin of Delia's hand. They turned a few heads on the way out, but the room was far too crowded for many people to stop and watch the blonde midwife hauling another nurse to the door. There was enough chaos as it was.

She burst through the door, and Patsy, who was knelt on the tiles beside Mrs Marlow, jolted in surprise. Trixie did not stop for a moment, but took hold of Patsy's collar and lead her and Delia into a quiet corner.

"Tell me what happened _this instant_ ,"

"I came to drop off supplies," Delia explained, "And Pats came out to greet me,"

"Came out to greet you?" Trixie repeated in disbelief, "Give me strength! Did either of you stop to think for a moment that you were standing in the entrance hall of a very busy maternity clinic, surrounded by people?"

"It's hard sometimes!" Patsy interjected, her initial shock beginning to subside, "Everybody else displays their affection publicly. There are moments when I forget that we're the different ones,"

Trixie's scornful expression softened a little, her sympathy evident.

"I know, Patsy, but you understand better than most why this is such a difficult situation,"

"Of course we understand," Delia hissed, "But what do we do now?"

"You can't do anything at present," Trixie shrugged, "A woman has gone into premature labour, which was most likely brought on by the sheer shock of seeing you two together. As unpleasant as it is, our first priority is to care for her. I'm afraid that we'll have to deal with everything else afterwards,"

The couple exchanged sombre looks, but nodded their understanding.

"If it's any comfort," Trixie said quietly, "I don't think that you have anything to worry about. You are both outstanding nurses, and would both have a queue of people willing to vouch for your good characters. If this birth goes smoothly, I doubt that either of you will even need to lose any sleep over this at all,"

Neither Delia nor Patsy could quite determine if Trixie meant what she said, or if she was just attempting to soothe their nerves. The confidence in her voice had a calming effect though, and she gave them a warm smile.

"Now, Delia, go and take those supplies in to the hall, and then fetch us some warm water and clean towels. I'll get Sister Julienne and then we can try and move Mrs Marlow to a more…" she gestured vaguely, "… suitable area. Patsy, stay with her, and keep her calm,"

The group dispersed, and within a couple of minutes, Sister Julienne returned with Trixie. Between the three women, they managed to lift Mrs Marlow to her feet and help her into a little side room. It was not large, and there were a few crates stacked up in one corner, but it was quiet and clean. Delia soon arrived with the water and towels, and had also managed to acquire a couple of thick blankets and a pillow, which they used to put together a makeshift bed.

"Are you quite comfortable, Mrs Marlow?" Trixie asked politely.

The pregnant woman threw her a dirty look.

"Comfortable?! Have you ever given birth? Am I bloody comfortable! You wait until my husband hears about this,"

"Nurse Franklin is doing her best to help you, Mrs Marlow," Sister Julienne cut in icily.

"Some help I've had! You think that I don't know what sort of filthy practices are going on at your precious Nonnatus House! It's disgusting,"

Any colour that had returned to Patsy's cheeks in the last few minutes quickly drained away, leaving her pale and quivering. Her stomach churned, and she fought the urge to run from the room. Another contraction mercifully robbed Mrs Marlow of the ability to expand on her complaint, and Sister Julienne did not enquire about her shocking statement any further.

"I can see the head," Trixie said calmly.

The delivery then became a blur, and Patsy was oblivious to anything else happening around her, so wrapped up was she in her own crippling anxiety. It was only the piercing shrieks of a new-born infant that brought her back to her senses. She felt the warm pressure of Delia's hand on her shoulder, and she looked up, taking in the tiny child that was screaming and thrashing in Trixie's arms.

"It's a little girl, Mrs Marlow. Small, but healthy and strong,"

Sister Julienne went away to go and tell Shelagh the news, and Trixie quickly dealt with the cord, before handing the baby into her mother's arms. The afterbirth followed promptly afterwards. All in all, it was the type of birth that midwives dream about; swift and without complication. Patsy, however, was not comforted, and Delia could sense her concern, for the same apprehension was flowing in her veins.

"Trixie," she muttered, "We need to do something,"

"I know," the blonde nurse nodded, "I'm trying to think,"

Mrs Marlow was far too engrossed with her baby to notice the frantic whispering going on between the other women in the room. Before they even had time to formulate a plan however, Sister Julienne returned, poking her head around the door.

"The ambulance will be here in five minutes to take you home, Mrs Marlow,"

Trixie's face creased in disappointment. There was no time left to act. The ambulance crew, ever impressive in their efficiency, pulled up outside the community centre in less than three minutes, and Mrs Marlow and her baby girl were whisked away. The new mother sat up on her stretcher as if she were a noblewoman being escorted in a sedan chair, her chin raised proudly, and her air as arrogant as ever.

The moment that she was gone, nurses went to work, cleaning the floor and towels thoroughly, before helping to close the clinic up. The hall was vacated speedily, and it was soon empty. The nuns, Barbara, and Nurse Crane packed up their things and went too, leaving Trixie, Delia and Patsy alone.

"So then," Patsy mumbled, sat uneasily on one of the comically tiny children's chairs in the play area, "What do we do now?"

Delia took her hand and squeezed it comfortingly, looking to Trixie for some words of wisdom, but the other woman just shrugged weakly.

"We wait,"


End file.
